Siphoning Grace
by Idreamofivan
Summary: Set after episode 9.10 "Road trip". When Castiel attempts to finish healing Sam he realizes there is something really wrong with the young Winchester. Sam doesn't want to call Dean. Castiel knows Dean will kill him if he doesn't tell him what is going on. Mostly H/C and brotherly fluff.
1. Chapter 1

**Siphoning Grace**

**A/N: I own nothing. Please, read and review. I haven't written many Supernatural Fanfiction (only one other very short story), so I am still trying to find the character's voices, so please, let me know if you think they are out of character or any suggestion you have about that. **

**Chapter I**

He heard a knock and looked up from the book he was reading.

"Sam, you look terrible." Standing by the arch of his bedroom door, waiting, was Castiel.

Sam chuckled, used to the inhuman quirkiness that came with the angel. "Thanks Cas, your honesty is refreshing."

Cas frowned, looking perplexed, probably trying to decide if he was being sarcastic or not.

Sam wasn't sure himself, so he just continued, "Come on in, man. Is time for my healing session?"

He hoped it was. The pain in his head, in his joints… in his everywhere, had been getting worse and worse by the minute. So much so, he had stayed in bed, doubting his ability to stand up and face the day.

Cas nodded, walking towards his bed and placing two healing fingers on his forehead. Sam closed his eyes, welcoming the therapeutic glow.

"You do not feel better?" Cas' voice sounded concerned, but he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes to look at him. The angelic painkiller felt so good on his burning forehead.

"I do." He answered automatically. The Winchester patented 'I am fine' engraved too deep within him. Then Dean's younger voice dinned in his brain "Don't lie to Doctors if you can avoid it, man. You want them to patch you up as soon as possible so we can get the hell outta here and not have to come back!" Their Dad always thought he was the disobedient one. He wasn't. It was just Dean he obeyed. "I did, for a while at least. But then, the pain started coming back. Like I've just taken a painkiller and it was wearing off."

"I see." Cas' tone was controlled, like the doctors in many of those hospitals they'd arrived with nightmarish wounds. Maybe the angel was getting better at this being human thing.

"But that's why we had to do the healing in stages, right?" Sam did open his eyes now and inspected the other man's face.

Cas' eyes shifted away from him and he placed a hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him back. "Do you think you can lie down for a minute? I want to check something."

He didn't resist the push and lay down as requested, but asked "Is there something wrong?"

Cas kneeled beside him and gently placed his glowing hands an inch over his stomach. "Give me a minute, Sam, please." He gently started moving his hands throughout his body.

"Cas?"

"It would really help me if you stopped talking and relax, Sam. Close your eyes and lay still."

That statement didn't help him relax at all, quite on the contrary, a thousand questions and concerns came to mind and his whole body wanted to run away. But he did as told, waiting for the angel to finish whatever he was doing. It tingled, more than hurt, like feeling tentacles moving within his organs.

Suddenly the 8th passenger inside him stopped, but instead of something comforting the next words he heard were. "I think I should call, Dean."

He jolted up removing Cas' hands in one swift move. "What? No! Why?"

"Something is wrong." Cas tried not to sound alarm, but the angel was well… an angel and not a good liar.

Sam took a deep breath. It wasn't Cas' fault. He was just trying to help him, the only way he knew how. "I can tell that, Cas. You aren't as good at hiding things as think you are."

"I am not?"

Sam shook his head, placing his feet on the floor, sitting sideways on the bed. "So, what's wrong?"

"I think Dean should be here."

He sighed exasperated but tried to control his temper as he looked deep into the other man's eyes. "Dean asked us to leave him alone, Cas. And there is something wrong with me, not with him, so you should be talking to me."

Cas' didn't shy away from his look, quite the opposite. "I know that Sam. I didn't mean you shouldn't be told."

"Then talk." Sam tried to remain patient, but he hated Cas for dragging.

It wasn't that he even minded that much the whole Dean thing, though it did piss him off. He was a grown man, thank you. He didn't need his big brother to protect him at every corner. When would anyone acknowledge that? Still, the problem was, couldn't Cas tell that telling someone that something was wrong with them was a simple recipe for scaring them shitless? No, of course not, it was Cas, he was immortal. He didn't get sick and if something happened to him, he could heal himself. To top it off, he felt a couple of miles away from his grave. Even parts of his body he had never been aware of before ached. He gave up on sitting and lay down. The angel knew there was something wrong with him anyway, so he needn't pretend he was fine for his sake.

"Dean would never forgive me if I don't tell him!"

Sam closed his eyes and massaged his temples. He swore he could still feel the pins they had drilled in his skull. "I might kill you if you don't talk soon, so his forgiveness is going to be worthless at that point."

"But Dean..."

**A/N: Short, I know, but I figured it was a nice cliff hanger. Please, let me know what you think. I know what is wrong with Sam but not why at this point, so I will be open to ideas and suggestions soon. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter II**

**A/N: Thanks for all the follows, favorites and reviews.**

"Dean would never forgive me if I don't tell him!"

Sam closed his eyes and massaged his temples. He swore he could still feel the pins they had drilled into his skull. "I might kill you if you don't talk soon, so his forgiveness is going to be worthless at that point."

"But Dean..."

He winced, eyes still closed. "He wanted to go, and he's gone." His voice sounded more hurt and less pissed than he intended, but he hoped the angel didn't notice.

"Sam…"

Sam opened his eyes, trying his best puppy-dog look. "Cas, please."

"I thought your brother's presence comforted you when you got bad news."

Sam sighed frustrated. "Cas, this isn't the time for you to try to decipher human emotions. And even if you wanted to, there is nothing crueller and less comforting than telling someone something is wrong with them and then not telling them what it is."

"I don't mean to be cruel." Cas was full of honesty and Sam was going to answer but was cut off by Castiel's disappearance. "It will only take two seconds" the voice trailed after a body that was no longer visible.

True to his words, two seconds later Cas and Dean materialized in front of him.

"What the hell, Cas?" Dean pushed himself away from the angel's grab. "What are we doing here?" He looked around trying to determine where here was. "In Sam's bedroom?" His tone changed from anger to concern in a nano second. "Are you ok, Sam? You look like road kill."

Sam smirked. "So people keep on telling me today." he had taken his seconds alone to prop himself into a sitting position. He knew what- or who- was coming and hell if he was going take his brother laying down, regardless of how shitty he felt. "I'm fine."

"No, he is not." Castiel cut him off. Damn angel! He was still pissed at Dean and now by extension at the man who brought him there.

"What do you mean he is not?"

"Dean, calm down, I'm fine. Take a sit." He pointed at a chair.

Dean didn't even bother looking at him, his whole body towering over the angel. "Sammy, shut up. What do you mean he isn't?"

Sam rolled his eyes pointlessly and prepared himself to listen to the non blood related family member.

"Sorry for bringing you here so abruptly," Castiel apologized because Dean's menacing expression would have made most people apologize for being born. "Sam mentioned it was cruel to tell someone there was something wrong with them and then delaying providing the information as to what's the ailment. I didn't mean to be cruel, but I thought you might never forgive me if I didn't include you in this conversation right away."

Dean nodded with his 'that-is-a-duh-fact' face on. "You were right, but you're still cruel, cuz so far we know zilch."

Sam lay back down, dropping all pretense of feeling fine. He was pissed Dean, so pissed for so many reasons. He knew that seeing his baby brother laying in bed, sick and in pain was the ultimate form of torture… and he was so pissed. After all, Dean was the one that had left him sick and alone. "I thought you wanted to be on your own. I thought you were poison." His weakness leaked through in his tone.

"Sam, can we drop that argument until after Cas explains?" Dean's jaw tensed and his eyes darted from his brother to the angel and back to the bed. Sam's torture was working, of course it was.

"No! Sam tried to sit up "You decide…" but as soon as he lifted his head, stars danced in the room and overlapped each other until there was no room any more, only flashes of colors and then, blackness.

"Sam, SAM! Sammy!" He felt his brother shaking him, in a desperate, almost painful way. "Cas, what's wrong with him?"

"N'thng, I'm f'ne," he attempted, but his speech slurred, his eyes still closed, fearing the vertigo threatening him. "or w'ld if u stop sh'king" The shaking stopped immediately and he shifted, trying to prop himself up but a hand pushed him down.

"Stay down!"

"I'm fine," he sounded more like himself now.

"You just did a bad impersonation of a flying chicken, nobody here is clapping encore, so… stay down!"

"Allow me," Cas stepped in, removing Dean's pushy hand and replacing it with a glowing one. Dean moved away immediately giving room for the angel to work. "I am sorry Sam, I should have finished our healing earlier. You are in no shape to delay any session for even one minute."

_Way to calm the spirits, Cas!_

The miracle hands worked for over five minutes in complete silence. Every time Dean tried to say something, Cas - concentrating hard on his task- would hush him. Sam didn't even try talking, he just lay there, relaxing, allowing himself five minutes of peace and some relief.

"This is as much as I can do right now." Cas sounded apologetic. His hands shook as he moved them away and sweat covered his brow.

"It's ok, man." Sam sat up feeling much better. The dizziness and nausea that he hadn't even noticed before were gone, his head barely hurt, and he felt much stronger. "Don't worry, you said it yourself, it will take several healing sessions."

"It's not that." Cas shook his head and his body started swaying. He might have fallen if Dean wouldn't have ran to catch him.

"It's that bad?" Fear escaped Dean's controlled tone. He suddenly was pale and the lines on the corner of his eyes and around his mouth became as hard as rigor mortis.

"What?" Cas didn't understand the question, nor it's urgency. Sometimes it was hard reading Dean if you didn't know him as well as his brother did. Dean fought to articulate words, to make sense out of his fears when his whole body had turned into fight or fly mode and he couldn't do any of those. Yet, to any bystander, he would have looked exactly the same he did five minutes ago.

Sam swallowed. "Whatever is going on with me that you decided to spend so much energy in healing me that you can't even stand now. Dean, maybe you should help him sit down?" He gave Dean a purpose, because Dean worked better when on a mission, following a set course of action. He was not longer angry at his brother, at least not at the moment, he just felt sorry for him.

Cas shook his head again as Dean eased him on the chair. "It isn't staged healing any more Sam. It's just a containment measure. And I am not certain I have enough power to stop it from progressing." He shook his head again and covered his eyes. "I am almost certain that I can't." His voice almost broke.

Dean sat on the edge of the bed and Sam wondered if his legs were also failing him. As pissed as he was at Dean, he knew that everything and anything Dean did was always to keep him safe. As he constantly said, it was his job and it was above the world's needs, Sam's needs, or anything, or anyone. Dean defined himself through Sam's safety and as wrong as that was and as much pressure as that put on him, he wasn't going to be able to change that right this second. All he could do right now, was be strong for his brother.

Dean cleared his throat and his voice came out hoarse. "What do you mean, Cas?"

Sam sat as close to his brother as personal space would allow him to, a simple, reassuring gesture.

Cas exhaled, looked at Sam and tried to avoid Dean's eyes. "Human beings have their own grace, their own… "life force", if you want to call it. That is why we can heal you, because you still have grace, different, but close enough. It's what keeps you alive. When you get injured or sick, especially if it's something serious, you lose some of that human grace and then as you regain it, you get better. Do you understand?" He stopped and stared at Sam.

Dean closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ok, human grace, life force, we follow. Carry on." He said moving his hand in exaggerated circular motions.

"When I tried to heal him for the second time, I noticed that most of my grace was gone. Like I hadn't heal him at all. See, when an angel heals a human or occupies it as a vessel, it leaves a trace, part of his or her grace stays with the human. Thats why you felt like it was like a painkiller wearing off."

Sam's voice was gentle. "Because your grace inside me had faded?"

Castiel nodded. "It was fading, it continues to fade."

Dean ran his palm through his mouth. "What are you saying?"

"That human grace is leaking out of Sam, and somehow angelic grace is being drained even faster."

Now Dean ran both palms through his whole face and he exhaled loudly. "Again, what does that mean?"

Sam looked at Dean with eyes full of pity, even if his brother couldn't see him because he was looking forward. "That I am slowing dying." Cas nodded. "And no angel can save me."

"How long?" Dean asked and Castiel shrugged. Dean burned the angel with his eyes. "How long does he have, Cas?"

Cas' eyes were the vivid image of compassion. "If we have a continuous and rigorous healing schedule he should be able to live for some time, but his body is already so destroyed, there is no that much life force left."

Dean stood up and started pacing. "So let me see if I get this straight, something is siphoning human and angelic grace out of Sam? Who?"

****"Why?" Asked Sam.

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing and letting me know what you think.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter III**

**A/N: I used several lines from the actual 9.11 (First born) episode in here, just because they were relevant to the story and I like to keep it as canon as possible.**

**Thanks for the reviews, follows and favorites :).**

Dean stood up and started pacing the length of Sam's room back and forth. "So let me see if I get this straight someone is siphoning human and angelic grace out of Sam? Who?"

"Why?" Asked Sam from his sitting place on the bed.

"I don't know if there is someone or something siphoning it or the grace its just leaking out of him." Cas' voice was quiet, almost apologetical.

Sam stretched his palm out questioningly. "Why? Why is this happening?"

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and then moved his hand violently. "Who cares why? How do we stop it?"

"I don't know Dean, I am sorry." And Cas truly sounded sorry from his chair. "I tried healing it, sealing the leak somehow but I just couldn't."

Sam's face clearly stated, stop listening to Dean, I am the smart one here. He enunciated each word, like talking to slow people. "But if we figure out why this is happening, we might be able to figure out how to stop it. So, do you have any theory of why this is happening, Cas?"

Dean stopped for a second, turning towards his brother and wagging his index. "You are right, Sam. Did Gadreel do this to him?"

Cas shrugged. "I don't know, he could have, he could be using his grace to power himself up. Or the leak could have been there before and that's why it took him so long to heal Sam."

"Why wouldn't he tell me if something like this was going on?"

Sam looked at him incredulous. "Why would he tell you, Dean?"

"He might have had some hope of fixing it from inside." Cas added. He elbowed his knees and placed his chin on his knuckles. "For all we know it's because he was about to let go and say yes to death and he got tricked out of it. Or it could be something residual from the trials, that is serious magic, it could have caused it easily. It could even be that something has been draining him since he got back from the cage. He was locked with Lucifer and Michael for centuries, who knows what that can do to a human being? Maybe whatever it was was there before and only got exacerbated with the trials. And his body is so depleted by now...:"

Dean stopped pacing, rolling his head back and running his hand through his hair, he stared at the ceiling for a moment. He stood in front of his brother and exhaled loudly. "Ok, lets start tracing back then. Have you felt sick since you got back from the cage?"

Sam shrugged.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Sam's massage his temples and his voice was small. "I don't know Dean."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

Sam ran a hand through his hair. "I didn't have a soul, then the wall fell, and then the hallucinations and before anything could get better you disappeared. I don't know Dean, I've been so damaged through it all, that I can't really tell if it ever got better."

Dean was getting angry, probably out of worry, but angry none the less and Sam didn't know what to say to stop the attack. It wasn't his fault that he was sick! "But that was mental, emotional. What about being psychically sick?"

He shrugged again and shook his head with his eyes closed. "Sometimes the line is so thin, Dean."

"And what about the year you spent with what's her name? Amelia?"

Sam's voice was tired, Amelia's name was a synonym to 'my brother doesn't care about me' on Dean's mind. "My brother had disappeared without a trace, right after I had been locked in hell for centuries. Dean, you were gone. Do you really I felt OK through any second of it?"

"Then why didn't you look for me?"

Sam sighed, tired of this conversation. "You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

"I thought you were in heaven, Dean. In a better place where you didn't have to live this crappy life; A life of carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders every day, with a brother that keeps on screwing up and disappointing you. I hoped you were in a place where you weren't chased, hurt, and tortured one way or the other every other day. I told myself over and over that you were in a better place, because...I just couldn't… I couldn't do it again. After what happened when you went to hell, I was scared of doing something that would make you hate me for it again. I was scared of reliving those three months of endlessly looking for you and feeling like I was letting down at every corner. Reliving the impotence of not being able to do anything to save you. I was so drain mentally, emotionally, and psychically, I just couldn't go through that again. So, I chose to believe you were in a better place, better off without me."

Dean looked at him for a minute, like evaluating his answer, but then continued, "So, you are telling me that you have felt mentally and psychically ill non-stop for the past, what? Five years?"

Sam looked away but his silence spoke volumes.

Dean shook his head. "Son of a bitch! So what now?"

"We could try to find Gadreel, ask him if this is his doing or if it was something that was there before him, you know..." Sam volunteered pointing at himself at the end of the sentence.

Dean nodded approving. "Sounds like a good plan, but how are we going to find him? Also, Cas, you mentioned a continuous and rigorous healing plan, how often does that mean, really?"

Cas thought about it for a second. "I would expect every eight hours would ensure Sam doesn't lose a lot of his strength but I would still have enough time to regain mine back after each healing session."

Sam pointed at the shortest man in the group. "You said that when an angel heals or occupies a vessel, a part of their grace remains with the vessel, correct?"

The angel nodded. "Yes, that's correct."

"So, I have Gadreel's grace in me?"

Castiel nodded again. "It's fading too, but he occupied your body and healed you for a long time, there is plenty of his grace in you still. Actually, I believe the only reason why you are still alive is because of his grace."

Sam had stood up in the middle of the angel's sentence and was walking towards the door.

"Where are you going?" His brother asked.

"Library, I think I have an idea." Sam cried from the hallway not checking to see if the other two were following.

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Sam was carefully reading the spines of the books lined in the library. Once in a while taking a tome and more often than not, just taking small files the men of letters had intercalated between books and then putting it back in its place.

Dean walked to the dry bar he always kept fully stocked in the room - he usually required some help with library work- and poured himself a dose of Whiskey with three cubes of ice. He took a sip, stared at his glass for a second and then doubled the amount of alcohol. Sam caught from the corner of his eye as his brother looked at him clenching his jaw but didn't say a word. 'Thank god for small favors' he thought as Dean left his line of vision to sit in one of the most comfortable arm chairs in the back room and presumably have his drink.

Cas stayed right behind him, looking at him with interest and once in a while spying on a book himself.

Ten minutes later, Sam finally found what he was looking for. "Aha!" he said, handing Cas a manila folder.

The angel opened it and read. "'On the Inner Workings of Angels', the men of letters have interesting and comprehensive collection."

"Now that you found the holy grail, can you, please, sit down at least?" Dean half commanded, half begged, while he walked towards them with the drink still in his hand. Sam ignored him. "What is it?" He placed himself behind the other two men trying to decipher the content of the folder.

Cas took a second to skim the document. "According to this, we may be able to use the grace that remains inside Sam to track Gadreel...If we can extract it."

"How would we do that?" Dean asked taking another sip of his whiskey.

"Well...painfully." The angel added showing him a page with a picture of a huge syringe with a 4-inch long needle. "The Men of Letters believed that you could perform a tracking spell with extracted grace, but they were never able to test the theory."

Sam placed his hand on his hip. "Well, they didn't have a guinea pig, but we do."

Dean choked on his drink but manage to sputter. "NO! No, no, no way."

"You have a guinea pig? Where?" Castiel asked clueless.

"Sam, Cas. Sam wants to volunteer himself as guinea pig."

"Ohh." The angel finally understood.

"And no, it's not happening." The shortest Winchester added.

Sam tried his best puppy dog eyes. "Dean." He held them for a long time.

"No."

Sam's eyes meant business, his jaw clenched. "It's not your decision."

Dean placed his drink on the table and walked on his brother's personal space. Even if the youngest one towered over the other brother, family dynamics that had been ingrained for decades made Sam feel small in comparison. "You are dying Sam, DYING, because grace is siphoning out of you like a leak in a toilet. And you want to go and insert the mother of all needles inside of you to take away more grace? No. You can throw all the temper tantrums you want. We ain't doing that."

Sam fumed and ignoring the tantrum insult he just went for the more effective. "And again, there you go making decision for me."

"Well, someone has to inject that torture device on you and it ain't going to be me!" Dean pointed at the angel. "And Cas, if you try, I swear I'll cut your fingers off."

Sam raised his arm and let them fall down in surrender. "Well, if you have a better idea, please, enlighten us."

Dean smirked. "Sure, I will. I will come up with something that doesn't put your life in danger!"

Sam huffed and strided passed him and towards the other end of the room.

"Where are you going?"

"Away from you. I just need to get as far from you as possible right now, Dean!"

Dean covered his face with his hands and sighed. "I can't do it, man" He shook his head. "I can't." When he removed his hands and looked at Castiel his eyes were glassy. "I can't put him one step closer to his grave."

Cas just looked at him through understanding and compassionate eyes.

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In the infirmary, Sam winced and massage his temples. His headache was slowly crawling back in and he could feel his strength abandoning him minute by minute. He ignored the already so familiar discomfort and continue looking for the syringe on the endless line of drawers full of supplies and strange devices. These men of letters sure were preppers.

"Sam, may I ask you a question?" He heard Cas' voice behind him. He didn't look at the man before answering.

"You just did."

"Can I ask you another question?" Cas voice sounded even closer now. He turned around.

"Well, technically, you -" He sighed, giving up on the angel ever catching the joke. He was too tired to keep on trying. "yeah, go ahead. What's up?" He opened a promising box but it just contained a strange device or relic he had never seen before.

Cas started opening drawers on the opposite end of the line. "Sam, the trials. You chose not to go through with them for a reason, didn't you? You chose to live rather than to sacrifice yourself. You and Dean...You chose each other."

Sam rubbed his eyes and shook his head as he moved a step sideways to open another drawer full of supplies. "Yeah, I did. We did. And then, Dean made a choice for me."

"What Dean did…"

Cas started but Sam didn't want to hear it. He was starting to feel terribly ill and didn't want to hear excuses for his brother's behavior. He turned to face the angel one more time grimacing. "It doesn't matter what Dean did. Look, I could have put a stop to all this, Cas. I could have closed the gates of hell..." He sighed, turning back to the drawers. Another promising box.

"Oh, Sam."

He shook his head. "Dean doesn't see the big picture, ever. Dean has…" He was tired and didn't want to explain to Cas. He didn't want to dish on his brother just because he was angry and sick, whatever problem he had with Dean is was his and Dean's. All he wanted was an hour without a headache. All of a sudden, jackpot, there was the syringe, much bigger and menacing than it looked in the drawing. "I love my brother, Cas, but he is never going to see me as grown man. For him, I will always be a little scrawny boy in need of protection. I need to do this. If I can find Gadreel, we might be able to figure out what's going on with me and we can make him pay for what he did to Kevin."

"Sam," The angel said grabbing the wrist that was holding the needle. "I want Gadreel to pay as much as you do. But nothing is worth losing you." He looked up to meet his eyes. "You know, being human, it changed my view of the world. It changed my view of you. I mean, I can relate now to how you feel."

"What are you talking about?"

His eyes got even more intense. "The only person who has screwed things up more consistently than you is me. And now I know what that guilt feels like. And I know what it... I know what it means to feel sorry, Sam. I am sorry."

Sam nodded, he had forgiven the angel long time ago and it was not his place to judge anyone. "I know."

"That's why," He place his free hand on Sam's shoulder. "I can't let you do this. We'll find another way. Give me the syringe, Sam."

Sam placed the lid back on the box and gave him a quick, caring smile. He started nodding but suddenly raised his hand to the bridge of his nose and started swaying.

"Are you ok?" Cas steadied him and helped him walk towards the gurney in the middle of the room.

"Yeah, just a little dizzy." The taller man said sitting down. "A little headache. Do you mind giving me one of those painkillers over there and fetching me a glass of O.J from the kitchen?"

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"You got it?" Dean asked raising his head from the book he was reading when he heard Cas approached him in the library.

Cas lift the box up and shook it with a smile. He walked to sit beside him, placing the box on the table and looking at the books splattered all over.

Dean frowned in skepticism. "Sam didn't fight you for it?"

"We had a nice talk, very human. He understood why it's important to us that we find another way."

Dean's mouth went downwards and his eyebrows shot up in utter surprise. "Huh!"

Cas grabbed the nearest book and inspected it's cover. "What's with the sudden interest in Oz?"

"You said that when someone is healed by an angel, some of the grace is left in that person, like forever?"

"Well, no, not forever. Eventually the human body regenerates human grace and that human grace pushes the angelic and more foreign one out, but for a while yes, until the body has the time to regenerate it's own grace."

"Ok, so how long does it take for it to fade?"

Dean was getting impatient and Cas shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He had no idea where this was going so there was no way for him to answer what was really in Dean's mind. "Well, it depends, depends on the severity of the injury and on the strength of the person being healed."

Dean sighed. "Let's say someone dies and an angel brings them back. Would the angel's grace last a few months in that person's body?"

"Yes. Definitely. If an angel raises someone from the dead, their grace would remain with that someone for at least a couple of years."

Dean closed his fist and raised his hands in victory. "Yes! I know who we are going to use you with, sweetheart!" He said opening the box that Cas had placed in front of him."What's this, Cas?"

Cas looked inside the box, a strange relic that resembled the syringe in nothing except weight was staring at him from the container. "It doesn't make sense, I saw him put the syringe in there." His mouth opened wide in realization. "And then he felt faint and asked me to retrieve a glass of orange juice from the kitchen."

He stood up and stormed out while saying. "Son of a bitch, he played you!"

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The sight of Sam when they finally found him - in his bedroom- would haunt Dean for decades to come. He was sprawling on his bed, totally still. His eyes were closed and blood was streaming out of them. The color on his face has passed white and had stopped at a mixture of blue and purple. Blood also trickled from his mouth and nose. The syringe still stuck to his neck, blue glow filling not even a fifth of it. Sam's hand still clutch to it.

"Sam! Sammy!" Dean ran to him, placing one ear on top of his brother's mouth as his hand searched for the wrist to check a pulse. _Damn it Sam! _ It took him a while to find any. "He is not breathing! SAM!"

**A/N: If anyone has a suggestions as to why this is happening to Sam, please, let me know since I have no idea myself.**

**A/N 2: Ding, Dong, guess who is coming to dinner, bitches?**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thanks for all the follows, favorites and reviews**

**Chapter IV:**

The sight of Sam when they finally found him - in his bedroom- would haunt Dean for decades to come. He was sprawling on his bed, totally still. His eyes were closed and blood was streaming out of them. The color on his face had passed white and had stopped at a mixture of blue and purple. Blood also trickled from his mouth and nose. The syringe still stuck to his neck, blue glow filling not even a fifth of it. Sam's hand still clutched to it.

"Sam! Sammy!" Dean ran to him, placing one ear on top of his brother's mouth as his hand searched for the wrist to check a pulse. _Damn it Sam! _ It took him a while to find any. "He is not breathing! SAM!" He violently pushed Sam's face to the side and injected all the blue glow back into the other man's body.

Sam's body twitched, from his mouth came a loud gasp, and unfocused, shocked eyes opened for a second before everything went back to flatline. Cas moved forward hoping to have enough angel juice to heal the man but Dean, unaware of the other man's actions, blocked his access.

"SAM!" He grabbed his brother's T-shirt and shook him. Then, his brother's chest moved rhythmically up and down. Dean let go a breath he didn't know he was holding as he pull the needle out and just shoved it away, he pressed two fingers into his carotid. The pulse was strong and stable. "Sammy," he repeated, now much gentler, while he stroke the other man's hair.

Sam opened his eyes slowly. "What happened?"

Dean's jaw was clenched and his eyes threw dagger but his hands were gentle as they took his pulse, his temperature and accommodated the pillows so his brother was lying down to his liking. He spoke while he worked, using his "fatherly voice". The one he always liked to use when Sam screwed up and that clearly indicated "I know best and I told you so." "You didn't listen to me, that's what happened. You didn't listen to me and you almost hit the dirt! "

Sam HATED that voice, because he hated being wrong, because he hated disappointing his brother, because he hated that Dean always treated him as a kid instead of a partner. He also hated his brother manhandling him like he was a little boy, but for the first couple of minutes he was too out of it to get away from his hold. Then it all came back to him, and his slapped his brother's hand, sitting up and looking around for the syringe, he didn't see it. "Where's the grace?"

Sam's sudden movement took Dean by surprise but it took him a second to get his hands back on top of the younger man. "Stay down! I injected back into you!"

Sam's launched forward taking the hands pressing down up with him. "What? Dean! "

"You barely had a pulse! STAY DOWN!" This time he put more force behind his hands. "Besides, I found another way, one that doesn't involve you continuously flirting with death." Sam glared. "The guy is old and ugly, Sammy. I would never had thought he was your type."

Sam sighed. "Ok, what's your plan?" He tried to sit up one more time.

"I said stay down!" Dean barked a command this time but Sam could hear the fear behind the anger.

"I feel fine, Dean" He said gently, but his brother's arm didn't relent. " I promise."

"I don't give a rat ass! We tried it your way and I almost had to watch you die, again." He stressed the last word. "Now, we do it my way and you will lie down!" He voice was raised and angry and his mouth resembled a growling dog.

Sam would have fought against him but he could see the pain, the fear, the defeatism, and guilt behind his brother's facade. He knew there wasn't much he could do to make him feel better, all he could was give him this small victory, so he stopped fighting and lay down. "OK, what's your plan?"

Dean smiled smugly. "Charlie."

Sam frowned from his bed. "Charlie?"

"Yes, we'll bring her here and have her 'donate' some of Gadreel's grace."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "And why would Charlie have his grace?"

Dean had the decency to look guilty while he explained how she had died, and Sam looked at him horrified.

"Please Sammy, I know what you are thinking and you are right. But not now, please? Once you are ok, you can rip me a new one, but now..." he finished running his hands through his hair and keeping them in the back of his head.

Sam's plan to scream, to prove to his brother that the youngest Winchester didn't hold the monopoly on fuck-ups got thrown out the window. "Well, at least she is alive and that's all that really matters." He attempted to make his brother feel better. "But we can't ask Charlie for that, we can't put her health at risk."

"We'll be taking barely any grace, she would barely feel it because she is fine." Dean nodded in his direction and added "unlike you. Right cas?"

Cas who had remained silent and was probably wondering who Charlie was, just nodded.

"Still… Dean." The king of puppy dog eyes tried again.

"Well," Dean shrugged, "we can ask her and if she says no, we'll find plan C." They both knew she would never say no and Dean was counting on that. "It's her decision."

"So when it comes to her is her decision, but when it comes to me, it's yours?"

Dean smirked. "Well she isn't lucky enough to have an awesome big brother."

Sam just rolled his eyes and tried a half amused smile. He turned to look at the angel. "Cas, can you zap into Oz and bring someone here?"

"I am not familiar with OZ, I am not sure how my powers would work there. It might work, but it might not."

Dean clapped and rubbed his hands with a sly smile. "Ok then, so let's find how to bring Charlie back. Can you zap all the men of letter's books on Oz to this room?"

SAM-DEAN-CHARLIE-SAM-DEAN-CHARLIE-

"Charlie, can you hear me?" Dean spoke to the swirling, disgusting, purple goo that was in the bowl on his hand. He had moved one of the chairs in the room to the left of Sam's bed. Now, both Winchester's brother were leaning towards the unreal concoction one of the books had suggested could help communicate with someone in Oz.

Cas had left them claiming that there were too many people in the room and too little information about Oz. They all agreed that his time would be most productively spent in the library researching books about fading grace, angelic healing, and any sort of un-evil curing spell.

The violet sludge bubbled and Charlie's surprised voice came through. "WHAT? Dean is that you? Am I losing my mind?"

Dean's nose wrinkle and his tongue out came in a fake gag at the disgusting burps of purple. Why magic was always so gross? "Nop, not losing your mind. It's really me. We need your help."

"What are you doing in the flowers?" Charlie's aloof voice asked him.

"What? I am not...No… it doesn't matter. Sam is sick and we need your help." He made sure to stress the urgency in the last line.

Charlie's voice now got serious and meant business. "Of course, what's going on? What do you need? Wait... Is Sam ok?"

Sam leaned closer to the bowl and spoke softly. "Hi Charlie, I am fine don't worry about me."

Dean glared at him and pushed him out with one hand, not putting any force behind the push but more like a warning gesture. "No, he isn't," He was firm and clear. "He is really sick and we need you to get your ass to the bunker like two days ago. Can you do that? Can you come back?"

Charlie took her time to think, or so Dean hoped. "Sure, I'll ask Dorothy, she has to know how to get back. I'll be there before you guys can say supercalifragilisticexpialidocious."

Sam chuckled, Dean sighed. "That's reassuring." He said sarcastically, he had no idea what that word meant or how he was supposed to repeat it.

"Ok Bitches, catch up with you in a jiffy. And Sam?"

Sam leaned his ear closer to the bowl. "Yeah?"

"I know you are a big, tough MOFO but take it easy ok?"

SAM-DEAN- CAS-CHARLIE-SAM-DEAN- CAS- CHARLIE-SAM-DEAN- CAS- CHARLIE-

Sam looked at his watch, five hours down three to go. He was going to make it, he pepped talked himself. In all truth he wasn't how he was going to do it, but what other choice did he have? He wished he had followed Dean's 'not so much of a suggestion' to stay laying on his bed but no, in true Winchester style he had insisted on greeting Charlie in the library instead of his room. Even if he was just sitting down and hadn't moved a muscle for the past half hour, his heart was beating a marathon a minute. The knives stabbing his head made him see flashes of bright light whenever he focused on something and his insides were burning so badly that he was scared that fire might come out of his mouth if he talked. By the time that though hit his brain, he was almost sure he was already more than half way to delirious.

Charlie had arrived not even half an hour after they 'called' her and they were already waiting for her in there. Dean had insisted they both sat on one of the most comfortable chairs in the room, a plushy two seater arm chair that was stationed against the wall and facing the library style tables in the center of the chamber. Charlie had sat on the desk closer to them and had turned the chair to face the love seat they were in. Cas sat opposite to Charlie and was mostly absorbed in the pile books they had found him with when they got to the library, though he did throw a comment here and there.

The girl was now playing with the angelic grace needle that was placed on the table by her side, spinning it and rolling it back and forward in an almost unconscious movement while she processed all the information that had just been given to her.

She looked at them with wide open eyes and a matching mouth. "Woow... I was brought back to life by an angel? I feel so biblical! That is some serious meta madness even for Winchester standards." She turned to look at the syringe with a smile that tried to cover her terrified face, acting was not Charlie's strong suit. But what she lacked in fakeness and disregard for her own well being she compensated in warm heart and a strong sense of what's right. "Of course I will help! I was missing being mauled in the Winchester's name." Her smirk grew bigger and both boys guilty looks would have stopped the heart of any cookie bearer grandmother. "Oh come on, guys, I was just kidding! How many times have you saved my life? You are like my own personal Little John and Robin Hood! Much better brothers than my X-box! I'd do anything to help you!" She offered them her trade-mark honest, full face smile.

Sam returned her smile with a caring and affectionate one, Dean just rolled his eyes as if the display of affection was too much for him. Then, she pouted in her traditional overdramatic childish way and played with the syringe. "Though a needle? I hate needles!" She whined.

Sam gave a chuckle that turned into an endless coughing fit. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably as all eyes bored on him and he was unable to stop his body from threatening his lungs with expulsion. A handful of tissue papers appeared in front of his eyes and he took them, covering his mouth. Dean moved beside him and suddenly his brother's body heat was gone and he felt cold, but was unable to follow the other man's movement as the coughs propelled him forward and downwards.

Charlie's eyebrows reached up and she pouted. "Ohh, Sam! We need to get you to a doctor!" Her voice was alarmed. Sam was just relieved that his cough had subsided enough for them to hear someone speaking over it.

Sam took a big intake of air and shook his head. "We can't." He coughed a little more, but it was dwindling. "If we go to an ER ...cough...it will take...cough, cough, cough...hours for them to look at me...cough…and...cough, cough, cough... there is no way we can explain...cough...to them how I am miraculously being healed every 8 hours." Sam elbowed his knee and rested his forehead and eyes in the palm of his hand.

Charlie frowned and rocked on her seat as if wondering if she should go comfort the man. She bit her fingernail. "I know you are getting the whole angelic healing stuff, but you know, they might be able to give you something that will also help you get better or at least make the time between those sessions a little more comfortable."

He lifted his head, placing his chin on his palm because his head was suddenly too heavy. "It's either or, and Cas' juice is much more than any doctor can do for me." He tried to put stamina on his voice, but he knew he was slow and weak. Cas had disappeared halfway through his sentence and he couldn't muster the energy to react.

Suddenly Sam felt something being placed on his shoulders and lifted his head to look up. Dean was covering him with a blanket and offering him a glass of water and a pill with a weak smile. "You were trembling so bad I was scared the building would start shaking. Where did Cas go?"

Sam had to give it to his brother, instead of giving to his natural instinct of panicking, screaming, hovering, getting all father bear and annoying the hell out of him. Dean had chosen to leave the room when he started his coughing marathon and do something productive while giving himself some time to calm his nerves. He knew it must have been hard on his brother, so he let him doctor him for a little while. The blanket felt good anyway. He took the pill, put it in his mouth and then took the water.

Charlie perked on her chair. "No idea, man. That was wicked! And, you know? People in Oz do NOT like that word. He puffed… was gone!"

Dean shook it off with a shake of his head. "He'll be back." He finished wrapping him in the blanket and with his right hand grabbed his wrist placing his thumb over his pulse, he lifted his left hand to look at his watch but put it back down before it was all the way up. "Fuck, Sam! Your heart is going to explode!"

"Well, you always said you wanted me to die of something normal like a heart attack," he only lifted his eyes to look at his brother, his head was too heavy and joked half hearted.

Dean didn't seem amused. "You need to lie down." He placed one hand on his forehead and Sam wasn't fast enough to avoid it. "Shit, Sam!"

Sam just enjoyed the coolness and familiarity of the touch, closing his eyes and letting Dean's hand push his forehead down until the back of his head rested on the couch. He felt Dean taking the ball of tissue still from his limp hand. Charlies gasped and Sam opened his eyes alarmed. The girl's eyes were wide open and staring at Dean's hand. He followed with his eyes and realized there was no hiding it, blood was drenching out of the paper like a Japanese flag. He sank his head even more into the fluffiness of the couch.

Dean sighed and looked at him.

"Yeah, I know," he rubbed his eyes and gave a sad smirk. "Insert-the-swearing-word-of-your-choice, Sam!"

"Not funny, man!"

Charlie walked to kneel right in front of the youngest Winchester and looked up to meet his eyes with a compassionate smile. Sam smiled back at her. She rubbed his knee. "Sam, I know you are tough and I know better than anyone how annoying its to be treated like a helpless, frail child, specially by Sargent Grumpy Care bear over there," she nodded in Dean's direction, "But you need to go to bed, dude. Ok?"

Dean, who was standing beside his brother, one hand on his shoulder, looked up and quietly whispered. "There is a god!" They both knew Sam would never agree to go to bed if he asked, but Charlie was a whole different ball park.

Sam thought about it for a second. He did feel like crap and he wasn't going to feel any better for the next few hours. And how could he say no to sweet, goofy Charlie?

Charlie didn't wait for a response, she stood up, grabbed Sam by the hands and pulled. "Come on. big guy." Her pull did nothing to lift Sam actual weight, but he didn't fight it either, he went with the motion.

Dean, behind him, pushed his back. "Can you walk?"

"Of course I can walk," he replied before testing if he really could. His knees faltered and his legs were made of jello.

Dean hadn't trust his brothers words and was ready to catch him. Placing himself under his armpit, he stood straight, pulling them both up into a vertical position.

"Dean," Sam begged quietly, though there was not much that Dean could do to give him the strength to walk by himself.

"Shhh!" Dean ordered.

**A/N: Please, let me know what you think.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks for all the follows, reviews and favorites! **

**A/N1: I wrote this before last week's episode (Fanfiction) came out, it was awesome, but then it felt like now what I wrote seemed to in line with the episode. On the other hand, I guess many of the topics in the episode were things most people mention often, so I guess I am just not that original.**

**A/N2: I have no knowledge of medicine, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes they are straight from my twisted brain that wants to torture Sam more. **

**Chapter V:**

By the time they got to the bedroom Dean and Sam were panting with exhaustion. Charlie ran ahead of them to clear the path, accommodate the pillows, open the bed and any other task that needed to be accomplished.

"Uff! How does someone that lives of salads can be so damn heavy?" Dean teased easing him into the bed. He carefully lay him down, sinking him into the pillows and leaned down towards Sam's feet.

"I can take my damn shoes off!" He snapped, taking his frustration with his own impotence on his brother, but the older Winchester, maybe understanding where he was coming from, acquiesced. Sam chose to just push the shoes off with his feet, scared of what trying to get back vertical would do to his headache and nausea.

Then he huffed and sat up against the pillows, just to show his brother he could. Just to let him know he was the one in charge of his own body, not Dean. The older man rolled his eyes but kept his mouth shut. Charlie smiled at the interaction and placed herself at the feet of Sam's bed; though her tense body was in alert, ready to run to help if needed.

"You don't have to do it, Charlie," Sam continued the argument they had been having at the library with his eyes closed. "You do understand that this could hurt you and we might not be able to achieve anything! We don't know if the spell would even work and even if it does Gadreel might not know anything. He might not be able to help us in any way."

Charlie's voice was farther and closer than it should at the same time. "Sam, yes, I know, you said it like a million times since I got here. But Castiel said the risk for me is minimal and even it doesn't help you, we'll still have Gadreel, he'll get to pay for what he did to the kid, to Kevin. He sounded like a cool guy."

"You would have loved him. All geeky and stuff." Dean voice didn't help at all.

Sam's arm covered his face as he sighed. "Charlie, please, don't let Dean fool you into this."

His feet got moved right and the bed sank where his feet had just been. "How am I fooling her?" Dean's angry voice came through. "Was anything I said not true?"

Sam knew his brother all too well. He always had a way of convincing people everything was black or white, life or death and that you wanted to be on team Dean or else. He moved his arm away from his face and glared. "Dean, you are risking her health for something that could be nothing!"

"Oh, so when it comes to risking your" he stressed the word 'your' and pointing at him with two fingers. "health, then it's fine, right? Let's go kill Sammy. But if it's someone elses then it's too risky? Are you saying that somehow you can do it but she can't, when you are obviously in much worse shape than she is?"

Charlie scowled. "I am not a damsel in distress that needs to be saved, Sam."

Crap, bring the 'protect the weak one' to the mix and he was doomed, Charlie was never going to back away now. Sam ran his hand through his face in frustration and huffed, his head lifting an inch from the pillow with the motion.

"It's decided." He heard her voice from the other end of a long, really long tunnel. The overwhelming dizziness made impossible for him to keep his eyes open and he realized he was incapable of regaining the air he had let go. "you… do… with... or without … your choice… don't… do thi… and will..." Charlie's was ranting but he couldn't make sense of what she was saying. He sank into the pillows as much as he could and struggled to get some air into his lungs.

"Sam?" Dean's voice sounded over Charlie's and almost on his face. A hand seized his wrist but he pulled off. His brother groaned and clutched his arm one more time. Sam tried to pull back but the other man was a lot stronger than he remembered him being, or maybe Sam was a lot weaker. "Breathe Sam."

What the hell did his brother think he was trying to do? Not breath? On purpose? He was trying to get some air in his lungs, it was just not working very well!

The forceful hand moved to his forehead, pushing him even further against the pillows and leaving him unable to defend himself.

"We need to lower your heart rate and your fever ASAP!" Dean continued. At least he was hearing complete coherent sentences, that was an improvement. "Charlie, can you go to the kitchen and get some ice cold water and some washcloths or towels?" He heard steps ran out of the room and opened his eyes to see Dean arched his back and leaned forward. He rested his hands on his leg and aligned his face in the center of his line of vision. "Sammy, I know you hate my guts right now. But we have to work together ok?"

Sam just closed his eyes.

Dean didn't move, "Look at me, Sam. " He ordered but he didn't relent. "Sammy, I always have your back, you know that, right? No matter how much of a pain in the ass I am, your safety always comes first, always."

Sam kept his eyes closed but his mouth pulled into a straight line. His voice got deeper as he tried to imitate their father. "Take care of your little brother, boy."

"Yes." Dean acknowledged.

He was thankful that some air seemed to be getting to his lungs. He focused on relaxing. "That fucked up line."

"I know, destroyed my sense of self and made your waking nightmares. Heard it before. But you have to let me help you get better man. You can psychoanalyze the fuckness of my acts once your heart stop threatening with running away on its own and your fever lets you see straight enough for you to quote Freud on me, ok?"

"It's not like that! I appreciate everything you always did for me, everything you gave up for me but..."

"Then it's settled..." Dean interrupted, he could hear his self-satisfied smile.

"Dean," Sam wasn't below begging.

"It's not my fault that you are feeling like this Sammy, so don't take your anger on your weakness against me, I am just trying to help here. Now, breathe, slow-ly, in…. out, slow-ly sam, very, very slow, in… keep your air in, Sammy, good boy..."

He could feel his heart slowing down by the time Charlie got back. Dean had coaxed him into almost lying down and was walking him through several breathing exercises and massaging his carotid.

Sam-Dean-Charlie- Cas-Sam-Dean-Charlie- Cas-Sam-Dean-Charlie- Cas-

He thought he was feeling crappy before, but now he had to add frozen to his ailments as his brother and the redhead determined that hypothermia was an ok treatment for his fever and tachycardia.

"Hi, Cas." He smiled through chattering teeth at the figure that had just materialized several feet behind the other two who were still covering him in icy towels.

Cas returned the smile. "Hi Sam, how are you feeling?"

His brother did a 360 and interrupted before he could answer. He didn't mind it, he wouldn't have known what to say any way. He didn't want to lie and he definitely didn't want tell the truth.

Dean walked a few steps towards the angel pointing an accusing finger. "Where the hell did you go?"

Cas took a couple of steps towards Sam. Eyes squinting, focused only on the boy on the bed and ignoring his angry brother. "Charlie made a valid point that it could be useful if Sam was being helped by someone with knowledge of human medicine."

Dean stopped where he was, raising one palm up in question. "So what? You went to the get-your-medical-degree-in-two-minutes school?"

Cas was almost at Sam's side now. "I am a celestial being Dean. I have ways of gaining human knowledge quite fast when I know what is it that I want to learn."

"Meaning?" Dean continued questioning him.

Charlie moved out of the away, allowing the angel to stand right beside Sam. Cas turned his face to meet Dean's. "Meaning, I got a doctor to accept to be my vessel for a few minutes so I could absorb his knowledge of medicine."

Dean opened his eyes wide and pursed his lips, taken aback by the news. "So, what, you are a doctor now?

Cas inclined his head and lifted his eyebrows, not quite rolling his eyes, but almost. "No, you need a degree from a certified university and several other formalities to become a medical professional. I do posses the knowledge of one, though. So, if everyone is ok with that, I would like to examine Sam to see if there is anything we can do for him from a medical point of view."

Charlie took one more step backwards and raised her hands, shrugging. Dean didn't answer but Cas didn't wait either, he kneeled beside Sam and removing the icy towels he placed a glowing hand an inch away from Sam stomach. "It's going to be like last time," his voice was calm and soothing. "I need you to close your eyes and relax as much as possible while I examine you. Is that ok?"

Sam nodded and closed his eyes, focusing on breathing in and breathing out. The octopus inside his organs felt foreign and uncomfortable, more painful that it had last time, but Sam reasoned that everything felt more painful than it had a few hours back. The room was silent and it made Sam uneasy, as if everybody was on the verge waiting for the results.

He focused again on breathing in and out, in and out, it smelled like old things and cleaning supplies. He liked the smell of the old, it made him think of books and permanence. Nothing in his life was permanent, nothing except Dean. He had never lived in any place longer than a couple of months. His friends, when he had not lost them because of the constant moves, tended to die. His parents had left him, his mother when he was a baby, his father constantly until he died. Nothing was permanent except the books and Dean. And now, in the midst of this chaos, he suddenly wished he had hang the "Hang in there Kitty" poster and made his room his, somewhere comforting, something he could dream that could be permanent.

He felt Cas tap his shoulder twice in a reassuring gesture. "Ok, we are done, thanks Sam."

He opened his eyes. "Thank you, so, what's the prognosis?"

Cas took a really deep breath and then sighed. "Well." He bobbed his head. "The good news is that there are a few things that we can do medically to help you heal and palliate your pain."

Dean was somehow right beside Sam, even when he hadn't seen him move. He talked to Cas, but his eyes were scrutinizing him. "How come he is so much worse than the last time you heal him?"

Cas mouth was pulled into a tight line. "Probably trying to extract the grace was detrimental to his health."

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose with a grimace and shook his head. "So what's wrong with him?"

Cas placed an awkward hand on the youngest Winchester's shoulder and spoke looking at him. "Sam, several of your internal organs are severely burnt and damaged, the lesions on your brain from when Crowley extracted information from Gadreel have not healed properly, you are dehydrated, you are terribly anemic, and those are just some of the things that are wrong with you. I think a blood transfusion would make you feel stronger..."

Dean interrupted patting the crook of his elbow. "Well, let's get at it then, we have the same blood type."

Cas spared a glance for the older brother. "I think it's best if I zap, as you like to call it, to a hospital and bring us all the necessary supplies. There are also several medications that would help with his condition as well as ease the pain. Oxygen and several other supplies might also become helpful at some point. Wait for a minute, Sam. I promise I'll make you feel better."

"Thanks Cas," Sam told the air where Cas used to be.

Dean took a soaked washcloth from inside the bowl that was on the night table. "You are going to be ok, Sammy." He promised, covering his forehead and eyes with the fabric.

Two minutes later, Cas reappeared, a hospital trailing beside him; bags of saline and blood, two Iv poles, cannulas and tubes, vial after vial of medicine, a pile of syringes and hypodermic needles, an oxygen tank, and a crash cart were part of the ensemble. Sam looked at the supplies with a terrified face, surely Cas had been overly cautious, all that couldn't be for him.

Dean moved fast, too fast, one second he was beside Sam, the next beside Cas. Or maybe it was just Sam's fever distorting his perception. "How can I help?" His brothers voice was hoarse as if he hadn't talk in like forever, parts of the words were cutting off. Sam felt sorry for him, he knew in Dean's mind he was the sole responsible for taking care of his baby brother and delegating that task was harder than killing a knight of hell.

Charlie also moved unrealistically fast and took Sam's hand with both of his. She didn't look at him, her eyes were focused on the medical supplies, but her hands squeezed his.

Cas grabbed a vial and tapped it twice. "You can prepare the Ivs, one pole on each side of the bed." He opened one of the syringe bags, placing the needle in the syringe and then stabbing the lid of the vial. "One should have blood, the other saline with this." He offered Dean a large vial from the table. Dean nodded and set to work without a word. Cas held a bottle of alcohol and dipped a cotton ball on it before walking towards Sam.

"This will help you relax and slow your heart rate," He showed him the needle in his hand. "It's just a mild sedative to help you rest and be more comfortable, ok?"

Sam nodded and Cas gently grabbed his arm, rubbing the cotton ball against his skin and then pricking him with the needle, he slowly eased the content of the syringe inside of him. The cold liquid ran through his veins, freezing and burning at the same time.

Cas inspected him for a couple of seconds with a small smile. He removed the icy towels around him -Charlie was behind him in a second to take them away-. Then he stretched his hand and touched him, a second later his wet T-shirt and bed sheets were dry. He continued offering him a caring smile, squeezed his hand and descended his thumb to his wrist. Placing his finger on his pulse, he lifted Sam's arm a little and looked down, concentrating on counting. Sam guessed angels could feel time differently than humans and didn't need watches.

His eyes drooped, closing by their own accord, he blinked a couple of times. His heart had stopped his exhausting drumming and things felt quiet and heavy.

"Are you feeling better?" Cas voice startled him.

Sam forced his eyes to focus on him and nodded. _'Heaviness feels good,'_ he thought, _'lot less painful than being light.' _

Cas face looked up, giving someone a meaningful look. He trailed the stare and found Dean nodding in understanding. He tried to follow the silent conversation but was at total lost. He didn't realize his eyes were closed until Cas put his hand back down on the bed and squeezed his hand. He forced them open.

"Now, I'll open two IV lines, one on each arm." He continued explaining, asking for his approval and permission. "It's not very customary, but it will be faster and more effective this way. One IV will be for the blood transfusion, we will close it right after we are done. The other one will have saline and some medicine. I will also inject an antipyretic to reduce your fever in the line. We'll keep that line open to inject any other medicine we think might help. Do you understand, Sam?"

Sam hated being the center of this type of attention and feeling he had no control over the situation, but Cas was helping by explaining and asking for permission each step of the way. On the other hand, he did feel worse than he had felt in a long time and could use some relief. All the tension slowly melting as the sedative did it's job made him more compliant. After all, Cas had gone quite a long way to help him, the least he could do was let him. He nodded -his eyes closing again- and exposed his arms, palms facing up.

Again, time passed in a funny way, the cold cotton ball in the crook of his elbow happened too fast, he didn't even realized Cas had moved. The needle took a lot longer, Cas tapped his vein with two fingers a few times and then looked at him, probably trying to gauge his reaction, as he inserted the hypodermic. He twisted and took a strip of tape Dean was offering him, tapping it to the IV that contained the blood. It occurred to him that he was missing parts of the actions and wondered if his eyes were blinking more than he was aware.

Dean smiled at him, kneeling beside him as Cas walked around him to the other side. "One down, one to go. You'll feel better now, Sammy."

Sam nodded and he fell the cold of the alcohol on the other hand. He instinctively turned to look. Dean put a hand on his cheek and gently moved his face. "Don't, look at me Sam. You feeling sleepy?" Dean's voice was ever so gentle.

Sam realized he was. '_The sedative must be working'_. He nodded as he felt the prick of the other needle. "Close your eyes, Sammy." His brother whispered with the cadence of a lullaby.

He couldn't help himself from following his brother's instruction. "What about Gadreel?" He yawned.

"He can wait. Get some rest, Sam. I am right here." Again, that voice that had put him to sleep so many nights when he was a kid. That had soothed his nightmares, that had comforted all his aches and illnesses.

"Don't do it without me," he mumbled.

"We won't. I promise! We'll wait till you are better, so you can kick his ass, ok?" Dean continued in the same tone. No matter what he said, it sounded like 'Hey jude' to him.

"Promise?"

"Yeah, Sammy, go to sleep."

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Dean looked around. He was sitting on the chair beside Sam's bed holding his hand. He was glad Cas had gone for the veins in the crook of the elbow for the IVs. He would never admit it, but he needed to be able to hold Sam's hand, do something, anything to feel like he was helping his brother. Cas and Charlie had moved to the library to get everything ready to summon Gadreel and he had stayed behind to take care of Sammy.

"Pff Sammy, this is as sterile as a hospital room. And I really don't mean it as a compliment." His head moved around inspecting the room. Aside from the dust, Sam hadn't move one thing from how the men of letters had left it fifty years ago. Yeah, he had brought a TV, a Dvd, his computer and his duffel bags. _'Way to personalize, Sammy' _

"Ok," He patted his lap loudly, "executive decision here." He stood up. "We can't have you lying sick in a room that has less Sam than the last motel room we visited." He walked towards the desk in Sam's room and looked for their Dad's diary. "You told me I could redecorate."

He opened the diary and searched for the family picture in front of the old house. "Hi mom, Hi Dad. Miss you. Help me take care of Sammy, will ya'?" He spoke to the picture as he walked back to his brother's bed and placed the picture on the night table. His eyes lingered. "I know you guys probably want him up there with you, but...I...Just help me here, ok?"

He turned around and walked to the closet. "Ok Sam, what other treasures do you have?" He spotted the bag where he knew Sam kept his most personal belongings. He never knew what they were, but he knew they were there. The bag had been at Bobby's along with a bag where Dean's kept his own personal treasures and he had brought them here once they found the bunker and moved in. He had put everything on display as soon as it arrived, Sam's was still in a corner in his closet.

He took the bag out of the closet and kneeled beside it. His mind was flooded with images of Sam's heaven, of a heaven without him. He took a deep breath to get ready and unzipped the bag, pulling it open. He ran a hand through his mouth as he opened it and pinched the edges of his lip in a nervous movement. Whatever it was -even if it was everything that represented being away from his family- Sam had the right to display in his room. On top of everything was a stack of pictures, he took them out and inspected them. There were pictures of Sam with him, with their parents, with Bobby, Pastor Jim, pictures of Jessica and Amelia and everybody that had ever been important to his brother. There were even pictures of Garth and Charlie. He selected a few to display in the room.

Beneath the pictures was a carefully folded set of papers yellowed by age. The creases were broken and taped showing that someone, Sam, had opened it and closed many times. Dean couldn't help his curiosity and opened it. The first page had a childish drawing of two figures holding hands, one much taller than the other, beneath them a kid had wrote "Dean and Sam". The drawing didn't ring any bells, but had probably been drawn by Sam when he was very young.

He moved to the page below it and realized that it wasn't Sam's drawing, but his. He just didn't remember ever drawing it or writing the essay that it came with. It was a school paper, entitled "My favorite person in the whole world" and was written in the same child's calligraphy. "_My favorite person in the whole world is my broder Sam. Sam is my best friend. Dad says I need to take care off Sammy and I do, becase Sammy is the best. He plays with me and always smiles. I am the lukiest broder in the world."_ Dean felt his esophagus tie in a knot and swallowed hard. Would Sam get pissed if he framed it and put it in his room? He probably would.

Below the essay was a stack of letters and printed emails tied with a ribbon. Sam had letters from their Dad, from Jessica, from people that had taken care of them when they were kids, friends Sam had had throughout the years, and a lot of people that Dean didn't know or remember. They were chronologically arranged and span all the way from 1988 till the week before -one from a friend that somehow Sam had managed to keep since his childhood-. He didn't read the letters, they were personal.

There were also a bunch of stupid academic awards that Sam had always been so proud of. He took them out for display. Sam's Stanford diploma in black tube, he decided it should also go on the wall, he was going to need something to frame it though. A few gifts Dean and their Dad had given him throughout the years: from the best brother mug Dean had bought him for his tenth birthday to the first knife his father had bought him. He took most of those things out to fill some of the shelves in the room.

At last, he opened what he believed to be their mother's jewelry box, inside it he recognize a necklace that belonged to their mother, a ring in a box that he was certain would have belong to Jessica if she had lived long enough, locks of hairs, rings, cheap necklaces and memorabilia that probably belonged to several of Sam ex-girlfriends. Dean was an expert in bad breakups but somehow every girl wanted to remain friends with Sam after he broke up with them and give him something to remember her by. Below it all, almost hidden, something caught his eyes and his heart started racing. There, unmistakably, was the amulet that Sam had given him so many christmases ago and he had regretted so many times throwing it away in that dead beat motel. He tried it on, it felt right.

He closed the duffle bag and put it back where it was. Leaving all the things he had selected to decorate the room on the floor, he walked to Sam. He carefully placed the necklace around his neck.

"You can borrow it, Sammy. I just need it back when you are better, ok?"

Sam- Dean-Sam- Dean-Sam- Dean-Sam- Dean-Sam- Dean-Sam- Dean-

Sam woke up to his insides burning. The fire imploding in his body was so bad that he thought himself back in the cage.

"NO!" He screamed to an invisible Lucifer, everything was black and he wondered if the devil had burned his eyes again. But he knew how being blind felt and this wasn't it. His eyes were still there, he tried opening them but he couldn't. It wasn't pass the angel to give him bodily feelings but to give him selective movement of which parts of his body he could access. Nothing more torturous than being trapped inside an unresponsive body while you are burning inside out. "Stop it! Michael, Adam, do something." He croaked, they rarely helped, but who else could he cry for? He always protected Adam when they tried to torture him, but he was his big brother, that's what big brothers do, that's what Dean had always done and now it was his turn to do it with Adam. Adam seldomly came to his rescue though. He couldn't blame him, it was his fault that Adam had got stuck in the worst of all imaginable hells. Besides, there was not much that Adam could do. Sam could distract Lucifer or Michael into torturing him instead of his baby brother. But they weren't as interested in changing targets once they were on Sam.

"Fuck!" He heard Dean's angry voice from far, far away. They loved taunting him with an angry Dean. Someone rubbed something cool on his forehead and he was surprised to realized it didn't hurt. Dean's voice came back, this time, he just sounded concerned. "You think you are still in the cage? Shh… little brother, you are ok now." The coolnees spread to his cheeks and chin, now the voice was just sad. "Why wouldn't you? I still have nightmares about hell, those things are not easy to forget, huh? It's ok Sammy, it's all ok. I am here now. They are gone, Lucifer, Michael, Adam, they are all gone. It's just you and me now, Sammy. Just you and me."

The air burnt on his way to his lungs and something was prickling his nose. He tried his arms, they were working, heavy as a bulldozer, but he had some movement. He went for his nose but something stopped him when he was almost there.

"No, Sammy, leave it." Dean's voice came again.

"Burns." He explained, maybe his older brother would help him. He tried again to aim for his nose but again he was stopped.

"It's just oxygen. It's helping you breathe. Just leave it there."

Things were slowly coming back to him. He wasn't in the cage. The smell was not right. He remembered now. The trials, Gadreel, Dean. "Oxygen burns Dean." He tried one more time to remove it, this time Dean grabbed his hand into his and move it to lay on his side. He kept holding his hand, drawing slow, comforting circled with his thumb.

He heard a sad chuckle. "Your lungs are burning, Sammy, the oxygen is just helping you breathe. Just leave it there, please."

He finally managed to open his eyes, Dean was fuzzy but unmistakable. It wasn't hell, thank god. "What time is it?"

Dean gave him a sad, loving smile as he placed the wet washcloth in his free hand on a bowl that was on top of his night stand. "Not time to wake up yet. Go back to sleep, Sammy. I've got you."

Sam closed his eyes and tried to do what his brother was asking him.

"It hurts." He croaked a few minutes later. He wanted to be more specific, a little more insightful but he was tired and weak and that pretty much summarized it, everything hurt, everything was hard.

Dean squeezed his hand and was silent for a minute. "Ok, lets turn you a little bit to your side, careful with the Ivs."

He now felt the prickle of the needles in his arms. Dean released his hand and placed a hand his shoulder and one on the top of his back, gently pushing and propelling him until his back was facing his brother. He winced to the nausea overwhelming him even with the slight movement. Behind him, he heard a plastic wrapper being opened and the two small taps then silence for a few seconds. He wondered what Dean was doing as he heard the sound of liquid being shaken. Suddenly he felt cold and realized that Dean was removing his covers.

"This will pinch a little, but it will be faster this way." Dean slightly pulled the elastic on his waistband down leaving the upper part of his buttock exposed. He felt something cold rub on the top of his gluteus and then a small prick. Dean covered him again and roll him so he was lying on his back again. "You'll feel better in a second. Cas got you the good meds." Sam opened his eyes, Dean was grinning at him, he smiled back. "You need to tell me about Adam some time."

Sam nodded. "I am too tired now though." The meds were already starting to work.

"Sleep Sammy."

"I'll be ok, Dean, don't worry about me."

"Of course you will be, bro. Just rest, ok."

"Stay."

"I am right here with you, Sammy, always."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews, follows and favorite, they are really cherished and appreciated!**

**A/N2: There is a whole new perspective on John Winchester in this chapter. It is my version of what I think happened, it doesn't contradict canon but it's also not the most popular theory, I guess. I hope it doesn't put any of you guys off. **

**Chapter VI:**

Sam was woken up by a blinding light. It didn't burn or sting but, after a life of hard conditioning, he was scared to open his eyes. He attempted to grab the gun he always had under his pillow but someone's hand was holding his.

"Sam, are you awake?" Dean's squeezed his hand while he spoke. "It's ok, everything is ok."

He realized much of his pain and exhaustion were gone and trusting his brother, he opened his eyes. On top of him, Cas was glowing golden. Beads of sweat decorated the angel's crown and he was kneeling instead of standing, but he still managed to smile at him.

"Yeah, hi." He said already wanting to get up, but allowing for the angel to finish.

"Hey!" Dean smiled. There were a lot of things that annoyed him about his big brother, but he had to give it to him, nobody could do the 'I am so glad that you are Ok, Sammy.' smile better than him.

From the corner of his eyes something caught his attention. Allowing only his corneas to move, as to not distract the angel from his healing, he focused on his night table. His mother's, father's, and Dean's smile greeted him from a still of his past. He smiled back at them. A picture of Jessica, gorgeous as a Barbie doll, and looking adoringly at him a few inches to the right.

His eyes wandered around the room; more pictures, his trophies, mom's pendant, his Stanford diploma were all there to comfort him. To remind him his life was worth living, that there had been more than just nightmares, being the boy king, and killing, there had been love, there had been life. To tell him this place was permanent, like the books, like Dean.

His eyes turned to his brother. While he had been inspecting the room, Dean had removed his hold on his hand and taken a step back. His hands were in his pockets and he was sporting a nervous smile. His eyes couldn't decide between the floor and Sam's.

"Thanks." Was all he needed to say and Dean smile reached his eyes.

The golden light stopped. "I am done," Cas announced closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Dean bent his knees and grabbed the angel by the elbows helping him up.

He bit his lip, heart twisting with guilt as the angel stumbled up leaning heavily on his brother. "Thanks, Cas." He attempted to remove the first IV while he was sitting up but Cas' shaky hand reached out stopping him the second he touched the tape. He looked up. "What?"

"What are you doing?" The angel soft voice was weak and Sam heart cartwheeled one more time.

He frowned, wasn't it obvious? "Removing the IVs?"

Cas shook his head as Dean helped him to a chair. "No, you need to keep them."

"Why? I am feeling fine now."

Dean walked to the desk and grabbed a bottle of Orange Juice he had probably brought when he was asleep. He poured it into two glasses and handed one to Castiel how took it gratefully. As far as he knew angels did not eat nor drink but maybe after his impromptu medical career he decided his human body could use a boost. His face sure looked whiter than a marshmallow and green around the edges. "Thats good," Castiel said taking a sip. "but, both types of healing should be working simultaneously. First, human grace is leaking away from you a lot slower rate than angelic grace, so everything we can do to get more human grace on you, will have more lasting effects. Second, if something is being healed by medicine, I don't need to focus my powers on that and I can use that energy to heal something else."

Dean handed him the second glass of orange juice but Sam was looking down at the red tube communicating with his elbow. "You are serious?"

Cas nodded, chugging his O.J.

His brother pushed the glass forward and raised his eyebrows in command. He drank the liquid being offered and could have matched Flynn Rider's secret weapon eyes as he pleaded with him.

Dean shrugged. "Hey don't look at me like that. I have nothing to do with this, just talk to Dr. Sexy MD over there."

Cas frowned confused but ignored the comment. "Sam, don't be unreasonable. You'll be done with the blood transfusion in ten minutes at the most, and we'll remove that line. The other IV only has saline, I am waiting a minute to make sure your system is free of any other drugs and then we'll give you a medicine that will help your lungs and heart heal but has some counter effects if mixed with other drugs. It will most likely make you quite dizzy and nauseous so I figured it was better to give it to you when you were feeling better."

Sam smirked. "Thank you, Cas. It's so kind of you to wait until I feel ok to make me feel sick." He said sarcastically.

Cas gave him a compassionate smile but still removed a small bag of medicine from his pocket, extending it to Dean. Bastard! "Dean, can you please?"

Dean reached for the medicine and nodded.

"Dean, please."

Dean shrugged again, raising his eyebrows and inspecting the bag to make sure it didn't have any leaks. "Hey, Sam, I don't want you to feel sick either and I know I said I wanted you to die of something normal like a heart attack." He placed the bag on the empty space in the pole and clamped the current line. "but I remember mentioning that you should also grow old and be chugging viagra. As far as I know," He pulled, removing the spike from the old bag. "Little Sammy can salute without help, so I am for anything that can keep the ticker kicking." He stopped for a second and looked at him, eyes pleading.

"Jerk," he offered him a sideways grin.

Dean chuckle as he spiked the second bag, "Bitch."

Sam- Dean- Cas- Charlie- Sam- Dean- Cas- Charlie- Sam- Dean- Cas- Charlie-

Ten minutes later they were back in the dungeon where Charlie was waiting for them. True to Cas word, the blood he had brought was all inside him now, none left in the bag, and the second medicine was making him feel like he was going to throw up the stupid O.J out of his ears. He felt like he was in a boat in the middle of a hurricane as he leaned on the arch of the entryway for support, one hand on the wall, the other still holding the IV pole.

"Are you ok, Tiger?" Dean patted his shoulder.

God damn, Dean! His brother could watch a person for a day and a half and if you asked him which color their hair was, he wouldn't have a clue. Still, one hair was out of place in Sam's head and his brother would be all over it.

He sighed and forced himself to take a few steps. "Yeah, I am fine. The damn medicine is making me dizzy."

His bobbed his head, arching his eyebrows. "So you are not ok, you are dizzy." He had to give it to Dean that instead of running with his instinct of carrying him, he ran to the closest chair and placed it as closed to Sam as it made sense. Sam sat down resigned and let Dean bring the trash can beside him and fuzz around his line.

"So, this is your dungeon, then?" Charlie twirled with excitement. "Awesome!" Sam chuckled and Dean rolled his eyes. Cas just looked at her, probably trying to figure out this strange creature so different than anyone he had ever encounter.

"Everything ready?" Dean went straight to business.

"How are you feeling Charlie?" Sam cut him off when the menacing syringe with blue glow stared at him accusingly from the table.

"Yes, and fantastic, not a scratch my friend, didn't even feel it." She smiled and continued with a speed that would rival a bullet train. "At first it was hard to figure out what all the ingredients meant, but our in house celestial creature is fluent in Enochian and pretty resourceful I must say." Cas smiled and nodded in acknowledgement of the compliment. "So, we were able to prepare everything, all we need is to add the grace" She picked up the syringe beside her and pointed at the wet circle around her. "And light the circle and voila, a Gadreel a-la-holly-oil."

Dean nodded and Charlie poured the grace on the bowl she had ready and stepped out of the circle as fast as her limbs allowed her to while Dean snapped his zippo and threw it on the oil.

"What?" The angel asked from his fiery trap not a second later.

"Hello, Gadreel!" Dean glared pacing around the circle.

"What do you want?" The other man barked.

Dean fumed and Sam knew deep down -in some remote corner that somehow knew the angel- that violence was not the way to break their adversary. He took a step forward, IV trailing behind him. The nausea made him see green and he forced himself not to run to the closest container. He swallowed and placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. Dean jumped startled and turned his face towards him. Sam shook his head 'no'. They had enough silent conversations in their time that Dean knew he meant. _'I got this, your way is not going to work'_. "We need your help." He told the angel.

"I am done helping you. You are not getting anything out me, you can kill me if you want, but you are still not going to get any help from me."

"Brother," Cas got closer to the oil. "You were once a good one, God had you in his deepest esteem. Sam is dying, grace is fading away from him, you must know that. We need your help to figure out why, how to stop it."

Gadreel raised his eyebrows in surprise, for a second he looked concerned, and then he scorned. He spoke to Sam but looked straight at Dean. "Why do you want to do that, Sam? When you spend so much time thinking about how much better everything would be if you die?"

Dean's whole body tensed. "What are talking about?"

"You don't believe me? Ask him," He turned to Sam with a sly smile, "I know all your hidden thoughts, Sammy. I know how you wake up every morning wishing you were dead."

Sam took a couple of steps back, cold sweat bathed his forehead as his stomach cartwheeled into his throat bringing bitter bile up with it.

Gadreel smile faded, he pursed his lips and slanted his eyebrows. "How the only reason you don't allow yourself to do anything about it's because you just can't stand the thought of putting your brother through even more pain."

Dean's betrayed face focused on him and he took one step backwards, searching for the chair with desperation. The room was spinning, things floating in the air like in a very trippy sci-fi movie, and he swallowed acrid bile under his brother scrutiny. Charlie walked towards Dean and tried to touch him, but he avoided her.

"Shut up!" Dean ordered but Gadreel continued.

"But you still wonder if he wouldn't be much better without you, don't you? After you disappointed him so many times."

"I said shut up!"

Charlie, who had remained near Dean, jumped started and took a few steps back. Castiel walked behind her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. Sam wondered if he was comforting her or keeping her away from the fight, probably both.

The world spun on its axis and cramps invaded his midsection. He covered his mouth knowing he was going to be sick. He tracked down the comfort of the chair he had abandon what felt like a decade ago and found it a couple of steps to his right. He stumbled towards it and his precarious balanced tipped it over. Dean ran beside him, picking up the chair and helping him into it. "You are ok, Sammy. Don't listen to him."

"Always needing Dean's protection." Gadreel kept on taunting. "But he knows, Dean, he knows he will disappoint you again, sooner or later, because you are a failure, Sam."

Dean sprinted back to the fire, almost crossing through as he pointed at the angel. "Cut the crap!"

Gadreel ignored him, focusing on Sam. "All you ever do is fail the one person that has always had your back, that has always taken care of you. So you keep on going, because you know dying would be just one more way to fail him."

Sam stomach kept doing summersaults, the walls and ceiling spinning out of control. Unable to contain it any longer he turned to the side and grabbed the trash-can Dean had left beside him as spasms took over his body and his guts came out of his mouth.

"Shut up! Stop it or I'll rip you in half! " He heard his brother screaming as everything he had eaten for the past twelve years seemed to make an encore appearance and pass through his throat. "Don't pretend you know about my brother and I, because you know nothing!"

"Really? You think you know your brother better than I do?" Gadreel continued, impassive to his brother's threats and undisturbed by his whimpers and coughing gags. "Well, do you want to know what your brother thinks about in his free time?"

"No," Sam begged between dry heaves. The chilling sweat on his forehead made him shiver, while at the same time, his throat was on fire.

Gadreel's sadistic smile scared him. "You know what I am going to tell him, don't you?"

Sam trembled as the coldness expanded to his stomach and pinched through his back. He winced as bile filled his mouth but the room had stopped being inside a washing machine and he felt he had some control over the convulsions. "Please! Don't do this, Dean was good to you."

"Your brother wants to kill me!" And Dean beside the holy fire, with his tense military stance, his clenched hands and sharp, menacing stare, did look the part. Gadreel got as close to the oldest Winchester as safety allowed him leaning his face towards Dean until they were almost inches away. The air got tense, fire that had nothing holy in it sparkling in the atmosphere. Sam's inside rebelled again and he groaned as more viscous stuff came out of his mouth. "Your brother constantly wonders if everybody's lives wouldn't have been better if he had never been born or at least died before his six month birthday." Dean turned his face toward his brother's. Sam closed his eyes willing the dizziness and panic away as Gadreel continued. "He even has pages and pages on research on time travels spells and magic that would allow him to travel back, to spare you all from his miserable existence. I am sure that as soon as he finds something reliable, you'll never remember having a brother."

Dean's whole body turned towards where his brother was, sighing as he ran his hands through his hair, he looked at Sam. His eyes were glistening as he silently begged for something. Sam couldn't give him anything. He swallowed hard, there it was, he knew he had managed to disappoint Dean one more time.

His brother stomped away from the angel and towards the first line of shelves in front of him. The muscles in his arms flexed as pulled all his frustrations out on the rack. He moved away with a second to spare as all the contents on the shelves splattered on the floor with a loud thump. He ran his fingers through his hair one more time and kept them there. "I need some air!"

Sam lurched upwards as his brother stormed out of the room. The IV tore through his skin as he propelled himself forward but he didn't care, he followed his brother out of the room. He needed to explain himself, he owed Dean that much. And Dean owed him enough to listen.

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"Dean, stop!" Sam held his brother's shoulder to stop him once he managed to catch up with him.

Dean turned around, his lips were tight, his face was stone, but his eyes were glassy. "Really, Sam?"

Now, he was at lost for words. He needed Dean to understand! His hands nervously searched his pocket as he hunched forward in shame, trying to make himself as small as he felt. "What do you want me to say Dean? Everybody's lives _would_ be better! I am the freaking antichrist!"

His brother raised himself, overpowering him, his face an inch away from his as he snapped. "That's bullshit!"

Sam took a step back and swung his hands exasperated. "I started the fucking apocalypse!"

Dean clenched his hands. "No! How many times do we need to talk about this? You just killed the demon everybody was after, you didn't know."

Sam shrugged and gave a heart-rending laugh. "It doesn't matter, I started it… It wouldn't have happened if I never existed!"

"Really? Because as far as I know, every hunter we knew was after Lilith. If I had the chance, I wouldn't have waited a second to waste her! If you want to blame someone for the apocalypse, blame Ruby, blame ME! I am the one that started it by torturing souls in hell, I broke the first seal and how many demons broke all the others? You want to play the blame game? The who's the worst Winchester here? You killed a demon, I started torturing souls!"

Sam sighed tired and pinched the bridge of his nose as he shook his head. "You are right Dean, I am sorry I brought it up." He looked at his brother with the most honest gaze he could muster. He made sure to put all his love, all his compassion, all his admiration for his brother in his eyes. "It was not your fault, anyone in your situation would have done it. Nobody can blame you for that and I am really, really sorry I opened this can of worms. Let's just forget about it, ok?"

Dean focused on his brother, Sam saw a trace of guilt before Dean bowed his head and covered his face with his hand. His voice was soft. "So this is what happens? Every time you try to talk to me, me, being me, end up blaming it on myself and you feel bad and drop it so it doesn't hurt me?"

Sam tried his puppy-I-love-you-big-brother-eyes.

"No, Sam, that's not going to work right now."

Sam continued his life-long-practiced gazed and forced a composed and caring tone. "Dean, it's ok. I am ok. Let's go back to Gadreel."

"No, I'll listen. I promise Sam, I'll listen to you. I won't judge, I won't try to blame it on myself. I'll be a girly-girl like you are, I'll pull on your patented 'compassionate and caring Sam Winchester listening eyes' -God knows I've seen them enough in my life to be able to copy them- and listen to what you have to say." He finished with a smirk.

Sam chuckled.

"Sam, please, I want know. If it bothers you, I want to know."

Sam closed his eyes, an hill of fire ants attacked his heart. His voice was soft and small. "You feel you are poison? How do you think I feel? My mother and my girlfriend were burnt alive because of me. I ruined everybody's life, everybody I know, everybody I loved. Their lives were destroyed and most of them ended up dead because of me!"

Sam could almost hear Dean's heart falling to the floor. "That's not true, Sam. You can't think like that!"

Sam opened the dam. He didn't want to put this weight on his brother's shoulder but it was already there, all he could do now was try his best to explain. "Really? How many of the people we loved were killed by Demons just so I would say yes to Lucifer one day? Think how you felt when you found out you had been bred to be Michael's vessel… I was supposed to be the devil's, the incarnation of evil!"

Dean fidgeted trying to figure out the best way to approach him "Sam…"

Sam opened his mouth as he exhaled, trying to eat away his tears. "A few years back, I found a page Dad had ripped out of his diary. It was about the day he found out yellow eyed demon's plans for me. Dad knew I was supposed to be the vessel for Lucifer since I was two, that's why he raised us the way he did. So I would be strong enough to say no. He just brained washed you so you would be there to protect me and help me say no. And if I didn't, so you would be strong enough to kill me. He wanted you to feel responsible for me, so you would do everything in your power to stop me! Your live and Dad's were destroyed so I could get away from Lucifer. Everything I hated him so much for all my life, he did it so I could have a fighting chance! I thought he was obsessed with revenge. No, it stopped being about revenge when I was two, it was always about protecting me. Dad just couldn't tell anyone about it, he couldn't put that burden on us, he couldn't tell other hunters...they would probably kill me. So he carried that burden all our lives."

Dean growled, Sam knew he hated secrets. "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"Dean, I know you think I should tell you everything, but that's not true! I was ashamed and there was no point in telling you. What would you have done with that information? Hate me?"

Dean outraged look said more than a thousand words. "No! Of course not! It's just… I just want to understand Dad, that's all."

"You have no idea how it feels. I have to look at you every morning knowing I ruined your life in every possible way. Even when you piss me off, when you treat me like a five year old without the ability to make his own decisions. All you do... all you ever did was do your damn best to take care of me, sacrifice everything for me."

Dean got closer, stretching his arm awkwardly. He dared a hand on his biceps. "Sam, please, the archangels, Lucifer and yellow eyes ruined my life. You? You gave me the few moments of happiness I ever had."

Sam looked away and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Maybe, but your life would have had a lot more happy moments if I wouldn't have been in it."

Dean punched the wall and looked at his brother through desperate eyes. "You don't know that!"

Sam rested his whole body against the wall and let himself deflate until he was sitting with his elbows on his knees and his hands on his temples. "Dean, there is no fucking way it could have been even remotely as crappy as it was. You been trained as soldier and forced to take care of your baby brother since you were four. You've seen more death before you were ten than most people see in a life-time!"

Dean knelt in front of him, trying to get him to listen, to understand. "Sammy, it's not your fault!"

"It doesn't matter, it's still on me. None of this bullshit would have happened if I hadn't been born! Mom, Dad, Jess, Brady, Bobby, Kevin, Pastor Jim, Ellen, Jo, everybody that died is on me!"

"What about all the lives you saved?"

Sam shook his head. "I try to tell myself that the lives that we sacrificed are not more valuable than the lives we saved and mathematically we are at a win. But they were, they are more important to me. Emotionally we are at such a bad loss!"

Dean sat beside him, copying his position and looking sideways at him. "Well, if it means anything... having all that shit happen versus never having you in my life? Emotionally, I am at a win right now. "

"You don't mean that."

"Sammy, not that all of that didn't hurt, that I wouldn't give both my arms to have one of those people alive, but how much did I fight to bring any of them back? And how much did I fight to bring YOU back? And it's not because it's my job Sam. There is nothing I would put before you, I said it once and I meant it, now and then, there is nothing, it has never been like that. Don't you give up on me Sammy, please."

Sam bit his lip. "I am still here, aren't I?"

Dean nodded and patted his brother's knee. "Even if it is just because of me, just fight Sammy. We'll figure the rest out later, together, ok?"

Sam nodded and sighed, ready to leave the chick flick behind. "I've been thinking, if Gadreel is using every one of my thoughts against us. I should be able to use his thoughts against him. Crowley said that I should be able to remember everything if I focus."

Dean gave a tragic chuckle. "We are listening to Crowley now, our lives keep getting better and better!"

Sam closed his eyes and focused, glad the ugly vomiting medicine was almost out of his system by now. "Give me a minute!" Dean tapped his shoe and tsked to the beat of some annoying music in his brain. Sam hit his leg. "Dude, seriously?"

Dean just rolled his eyes.

"Hey, what happened to your medicine?" Dean asked a minute later.

**A/N: Reviews are loved :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews & I am sorry for the delay, life is busy, busy.**

**Chapter VII**

"We are not the bad guys here," Sam sighed, pacing around the holy oil. He tried to keep his tone as calm as possible, but he had been pleading with the angel for over three torturing hours now. The medicine that Cas had re-injected as soon as he walked in, promising - though he had his doubts- that it would help his heart and lungs, had taken two hours to get into his system and he had to kindly coerce the angel into sharing while being interrupted with bouts of terrible sickness. Now that his nausea was slowly receding, all his other symptoms were escalating and he was unsure which one he preferred.

It didn't matter much, he had been trained to bite through the pain and do his job, so his illness was not preventing him from convincing Gadreel to spill.

Dean, never good at using tact and gentleness to coerce someone, -he was more the punch you to submission type- had endured a whole twenty minutes with a stoic face while Sam spoke and threw up and Gadreel tried again to divert, before storming out of the room without a word. Sam was convinced that of all the possible outcomes, that was one of the best. Charlie ran after him, hopefully to calm him down.

The movement of the flames in the angel cage made his body sway and he took a step backwards when he realized that his tired and feverish eyes couldn't distinguish the edge of it. The last thing he needed was to trip on his stumbly feet and fall on top of the holy oil, or worse, have his fever miscalculate distances and walk right through it. "We are on the same team, you know that. You fought with us, we want the same things."

"You want me dead!" Gadreel had sat down on the floor, his tone had lost it viciousness and now it only sounded tired and defeated.

"_Well, we want almost the same things._" He thought. "You killed Kevin, that hurts us, you know how much that hurts us." He wasn't going to lie to the angel, he wasn't stupid and knew him better than anyone - aside from Lucifer, yikes- trying to deceive him was not the way to go. "But I understand why you did it. You need to vindicate your name and Metatron convinced you that he can help you do that. I know what happened back in the garden wasn't your fault. You never meant for that to happen. You made one mistake, one small mistake and they outcasted you, trapped you in prison, tortured you." He let himself close his eyes for a second. It felt so good, the bright light was twisting his guts and melting his brain. He tried to hide his wince and lifted a hand to his temple. A second later, when he forced himself to open his eyes, he was surprised to see watery sweat and not blood on his hand. His forehead felt raw and stabbed. His insides, liquified and burning. "Nobody can understand that better than Castiel and I, right Cas?" He turned to the other angel. "Nobody knows better than us how it feels like to be sorry for your mistakes, to want to make it up to the world. How horrible it feels to know we can't change things." The fever was starting to distort the size of things and he realize he couldn't estimate the distance between himself and Castiel. He seemed close one second and far the next, the wall behind him moving along with him. The holy fire burnt too hot in front of him, while his back was freezing.

Cas had been standing nearby, following his lead like a champ, proving support and an angel perspective whenever needed. When asked he nodded, guilt clouding his eyes. "I know, brother. I know how horrible it feels."

Sam covered his face with shaky hands, blocking the light for another precious second. He wished he could sit down, his legs were already wobbly. He took a small step and his heart pounded against his chest with effort, like someone knocking on a door desperate to get in. Still, he was scared that if he stayed in one place, he would lose his balance. He couldn't stop until he was done, but he would be forced to stop soon. So, he needed to play his chips right. "But this." He pointed at the floor with his index. "Not helping us, that you can prevent. Think Gadreel, how will you feel in a few years from now, after I am dead, knowing that you could have done something to help me but you didn't."

Gadreel, still on the floor, lifted his knees and crossed his legs, hugging them and resting his chin on his left knee. "You have to promise to let me go."

The voice came out muffled and Sam wasn't sure he heard it right. "Eh?"

"I'll tell you what I know. It might not be enough, but at least, I'll know I've done my part. But you, your brother, and Castiel have to promise that you won't kill me."

Burning iron pierced through the back of Sam's skull and he had to gulp not to scream in pain. He could feel his heart racing to his mouth and his chest hurt with all that pumping. He needed to sit down, to take something for the pain. "I promise." He mumbled, trying to find a wall to claim for support. He was about to admit defeat and ask Cas for help.

"I need your brother to promise me too. He is angry, I don't trust him when he is angry."

Sam didn't blame him, angry Dean was dangerous and impulsive. He sighed and was about to ask Cas to go get him. He'd have to wait a little longer to sit down.

As if reading his mind - and sometimes Sam truly wondered- the door opened and Dean walked in, a bottle of gatorade in one hand, a bottle of some medicine Sam desperately hoped would make him feel better, on the other. Charlie followed with a bowl that seemed to contain Sam's favorite Chicken and Pecan salad in one hand and another Gatorade in the other.

"We figured lunch and medicine were long gone," Dean said walking straight to the chair and moving it beside Sam. "And the nausea should be down while all your aches are probably up." He shook the pills in the orange container.

Sam knew he should get angry as Dean eased him on the chair. How could he barge in like that and interrupt him? Worse, to treat him like a five year old that can't sit by himself! But he was so damn grateful to be sitting down. Truth be told, he was not certain he would have been able to aim at the chair correctly the way his fever was distorting his proportions. He was certain he wouldn't have been able to grab the pills that his brother deposited in his hand.

"This ought to help without making you too loopy or knocking you out." He said opening the gatorade and placing it on his other hand. God bless Dean! No, he shouldn't get angry at his brother. He was really trying to help him without patronizing him. It wasn't Dean's fault that he actually needed help, he was just trying to supply it the best way he could. Still, it nagged him. His brother pushed the drink -and Sam's hand- closer to his mouth. He not once looked at Gadreel but asked. "What should I promise? Drink."

Sam obliged and put the pills in his mouth, downing them with a big gulp.

"I'll tell you what I know," the angel inside the circle had stood up, hands clenched and legs slightly apart in a defensive stand. " But, I want you to promise me that you'll let me go and won't kill me."

Dean sighed. "Drink up, Sam, finish it, you are probably dehydrated again after your awesome puking fest."

Sam rolled his eyes and looked up at his brother in the same and only movement he afforded. He hoped his message was clear. "_Quit dragging, answer, and stop babying me!" _

"Would you rather start with IV's again?" His brother pushed the drink closer to his mouth. He drank but made sure his eyes expressed even more annoyance. "I didn't think so." He looked up at the angel. "Ok, I promise. You better have something good to tell us."

"What about you?" The trapped angel looked at Cas.

Castiel nodded and took a step closer to the other angel. "I have no intention of killing you and wouldn't restrain you against your will if the Winchester brothers let you go."

Gadreel sighed and opened his fists, relaxing his fighting stance a little.

"What about me?" Charlie frowned, looking like a pissed off five year old. "I am not threatening enough? Pal, I am the one that trapped you there!"

Gadreel, looked at her, opening his eyes surprised. Then he frowned confused. "Are you planning to keep me trapped or kill me?"

She shook her head, shrugging, and taking a step back. "No, of course not, but it's rude to disregard me as if I was a non-threatening fruitfly!"

Gadreel tilted his head and gave her one more confused look before replying. "I am sorry." Then he looked at Sam and nodded. "I noticed how your grace was fading, even at the hospital. At first, I thought I could contain it, that I could find the source of the leak and heal it. After a while, I realized it was impossible. No matter how much I healed you, there was no way I could stop it. Even possessing you didn't help. I could keep you alive, but only if I stayed. Eventually, I realized expulsing me would just be a death sentence to you."

Sam had elbowed his knee, supporting his temple with his hand. The pills had yet to have any effect. He tried not to sound as tired as he felt."So you stayed and didn't tell Dean?"

Gadreel eyes searched for the shorter Winchester. "I was going to." Dean glared at him. "I was trying to figure out how to tell you. I know you think angels are heartless creatures but we do not relish delivering bad news. I kept on looking for a way, something that could help and that is when Metatron contacted me."

Dean's face twisted with a bitter smirk. "And you decided that helping him was better than helping us?"

Gadreel glared, clenching his fist again. "I could have left your brother and go back to my old vessel. And he would be dead by now. Metatron knew, from the very beginning. He told me my vessel, you," He pointed at Sam. "Was damaged beyond repair. He told me the trials could not be stopped. That whether he went through with them or not, he was meant to die from the moment he completed the first one. That it was on the tablet, it was a condition to make sure that whoever started the trials really took it seriously, really meant it. It was the ultimate sacrifice and the first and last trial." Gadreel looked at him, he knew he looked pitiful. The angel's expression softened, the lines on his face relaxed and his eyes filled with compassion. "I never wanted you to die. I truly wanted to help you. I hope you know that."

Their eyes met for a second and Sam nodded.

Dean closed his eyes and swallowed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Why didn't you tell me all this?"

Gadreel sounded apologetic. "What did you want me to tell you? Metratron told me that…yeah, that wouldn't have sounded suspicious at all."

"No." Dean shook his head in denial. "Why should we believe Metatron?"

The angel's tone continued to be soft. His eyebrows slanted upwards and the corners of his mouth twitched compassionately. "Because he told me before I even asked. He said I would never be able to save him."

Dean took a step backwards, shaking his head and closing his eyes. When he opened them, he looked at Sam in silence for a long time. The pain in his brother's gaze hit his already racing heart like daggers and breathing became difficult. He forced himself to keep his eyes open, focused on his brother and calm his breathing down, the only thing he could do for Dean right now.

Castiel took a couple of steps and place a hand on Dean's shoulder. He shook startled by the touch but turned his head towards the angel. "If Metraton knew that, he might know a way to stop it. There might be some sort of loophole that we are not aware of." The angel said.

Sam closed his eyes and swayed. The clock on the wall told him that it had been four hours and forty five minutes since his last healing. Even if Castiel had estimated that healing him every eight hours would suffice, truth was that five hours seemed to be the most he could tolerate, or at least function for. His body wasn't strong enough to keep him sitting up and the backrest wasn't big enough to support his larger than average back. He couldn't faceplant right now, it wasn't going to help Dean any. He didn't quite know what Charlie had done with his salad, most likely just left it on the floor, but as if reading his mind she stood behind him, placing her Gatorade on his lap and wrapped him in a loose embrace. It wasn't a strong hold, but it was enough to keep him upright.

"So how do we get to this Metatron?" She asked.

**A/N: Please let me know what you think and thanks for reading.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/n: Thanks for all the favorites, follows and reviews, please keep them coming. **

**Chapter VIII**

Dean stared at Sam, even with Charlie steading him on the chair, he was still swaying. His eyes were glazed and he could almost feel the effort he was putting behind keeping them focused. How much he was trying to control his wheezing. How much he was desperately trying not to worry his big brother. Sam knew he panicked. Sam was aware that sometimes, the only thing he could do to be the best possible brother was to stop adding to Dean's anxiety and let him do what was ingrained in him, the only thing that allowed him to fool himself into believing that he had any control over anything in his crappy, crappy life; taking care of his little brother.

"Hey," he said kneeling in front of his small sasquatch, and patting his knee. Sam looked at him and smiled, the love he put behind his gaze was not lost on his brother. Dean wondered how a heart can break and rejoice at the same time. "Why don't we take you to bed? We'll figure how to get Metatron while you rest a little."

Sam's smile grew sadder and his love-filled eyes overwhelmed. "Dean…" he could hear an objection coming.

"Please, for me? Let me take care of everything, take care of you." _Let me feel I can take care of something_, he hoped his brother heard his silent plea.

Sam eyes never left his. Those eyes could say so much, those eyes could fill him with so much self-worth. Sam always got angry at him because his self image and self value were so tied to his brother, but it was all Sam's fault really; Sam's eyes, with all that admiration, all that understanding, and all that unconditional love. He could hear Sam huff in his brain, '_don't blame me, you should value yourself for who you are, not just because I love you._

' "Ok." his brother admitted and allowed him to help him up and slowly walk with him to his bedroom. Cas, the doctor, followed them close.

"What about me?" He heard Gadreel bark as he was leaving the room.

"Charlie, can you take care of him?" Dean asked without even looking back to hear the answer.

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The ill-timed coughing fit propelled Sam into the bed, even when Dean had tried to gently ease him into it. He somehow lost the grip on his brother when his body started hacking back and forth and Sam thumped into the mattress. '_Well, better the bed than the floor',_ he thought, but that didn't make him feel any less guilty. Guilt was immediately overthrown by all-consuming worry as an alarming amount of blood covered his brother's palm and splattered onto Sam's bare arms, his pants, Dean's clothing, the night-table, the comforter, it seemed like everywhere.

He swallowed, forcing his panic down and pulling his most nonchalant smile. He grabbed a bunch of kleenex while he waited for the cough to subside and quickly cleaned whatever blood he could. "Here, clean yourself up," he said handing Sam the rest of the tissue paper, "red polka dots are soo last summer."

He tried to keep his face stoic as his brother's coordination failed him and was unable to aim at his own face. Sam, apparently, didn't care or didn't have enough strength to cover his panic. "It's ok, you are just tired," not wanting to embarrass or worry Sam any further, he took the tissue from his brother's hand and cleaned his face in one swift movement. He'd clean the rest of the blood later, right now, he couldn't give a rat ass about it. "You just rest a little," he continued. Sam didn't fight him when he bent down to remove his shoes or when he helped him under the blood stained comforter. He didn't need to touch his forehead to know it was fever more than exhaustion that was playing tricks with Sam's depth perception. The heat wave could be felt steaming even from out of his thick leather boots. His brother's body was on fire! "We need to get your fever down."

His brother let a soft moan, mix of pain and relief, escape as he closed his eyes, settling in bed and nodding.

He had forgotten about Cas. The angel had stayed behind him, not breathing, not making a sound, trying to give the brothers as much privacy as possible, but ready to jump in if he was needed. Once he heard Dean's statement moved towards the table full of medical supplies and grabbed the antipyretic and a bag of saline. Dean figured -with his newly acquired prowess in doctoring- he would insist on taking charge. Yet, apparently Sam wasn't the only one that knew how much he needed to take care of his brother for the sake of his own mental health, since he handed him all the supplies and went back to hiding on the sidelines. Dean hoped his eyes could express the gratitude his mouth couldn't as he grabbed the medicine the angel was offering and moved to unclamp his brother's open line.

He unclamped, checked the line, checked the bag, injected, felt Sammy's forehead, moved his damn damped bangs out of his scorching brow and Sam just laid there, without saying a word or resisting any of his ministrations in any way. His eyes were closed, a tight line enslaving his mouth. Alarm bells started shaking his gut and ringing in his ears and he didn't need to look at the hands under the covers to know they were probably drawn in a tight fist. '_Sammy is sick, you know that. He has been in pain for a while, nothing new. What did you expect?' _He told myself, forcing to calm down, but it wasn't working. Big brother's gong was banging and there was nothing he could do about it. There never was. "Where does it hurt?"

The tight line didn't relinquish, no words came out of his brother's mouth. Maybe Sam hoped he would think he was asleep? Maybe he was in too much pain to answer?

"Sam!?"

"Everywhere, Dean. I just don't anymore what doesn't hurt."

"You are such a drama queen!" He joked as not to cry. "It's ok, we'll get you something. We'll make it go away." He turned to Cas. "Get me something to help him rest, would you?" He felt Sam grab his arm and turned back to him.

"No," he coughed, shaking his head.

"No what, Sam?"

"I don't want to sleep. Just sit here and talk to me." Sam's voice was so weak that it took all Dean's willpower not to walk away. He couldn't leave his brother alone in a moment like this, but the pain he was feeling was so bad he desperately wanted to escape it. It was as if someone had turned on the most powerful vacuum in the world inside his guts and was sucking all the air, all his inner organs, and leaving him empty and raw.

What was Sam talking about? "Talk about what?"

Sam opened his eyes and looked at him with those evil-begging-puppy-dog-eyes. "Anything, just talk to me."

He used his palm to close his brother's eyes again. "Just go to sleep Sam. We'll give you something to knock you down and you'll wake up in a couple of hours after Cas heals you."

Sam shook his head and was attacked by his own lungs that threaten with eating him alive as the hacking coughs bit into his body, shaking him over and over again. Dean leaned forward to help Sam sit up and allow more air into him. Blood now covered the sheets, the walls, Dean's entire body, some of it had even reached Cas on the other end of the room. Dean bit his lip until he drew blood but didn't let the words and the endless stream of curses that wanted to blast out his mouth escape.

Eventually, after what felt like forever in slow motion, the cough subsided but left Sam struggling for air. His lips turned blue and his eyes bulged out before Cas was able to rush the oxygen mask into his face.

"Go to sleep, Sammy." Dean was aware that this was probably not the time to give orders, but the words came out of his mouth just as if they would have of John Winchester's. Dean just couldn't take it any longer. He needed his little brother asleep because his heart was a torned, smashed, wet, and rusty piece of barb wire.

Sam kept his eyes opened and shook his head one more time.

"Sam, what the fuck is wrong with you? What's going on?"

Sam's hand went to the oxygen mask.

"That stays on!" John Winchester drilling sargent reappeared. "Talk through it."

"If I go to sleep, I don't know if I'll wake up. I'm trying Dean. I don't want to leave you alone, I don't want to hurt you like that. You don't deserve it. But I don't know if I can do it."

"Don't be ridiculous man. Go to sleep, you'll wake up in a couple of hours feeling all better after Cas heals you. We'll go kick Metatron's ass and get you all cured."

"Sam," Cas took a step towards the bed. "If you feel so sick, I can heal you now. I just fear I won't be strong enough to do as much good as I will be able to in three hours. I am so sorry, Sam." Cas sounded like he had somehow failed them and Dean wanted to feel sorry for him. He did, but he couldn't because all he could think about was that he wanted Sammy healed and Cas couldn't do it. "But, if you can't last a couple of hours. If there aren't any other alternatives…"

"No, man, don't be insane," Dean could feel the tears building in his sockets and wiped them out, hopefully before anyone noticed them. "You can last a couple of hours, right? Right Sam?" He knew it sounded more like a plea than a question, but he couldn't help it.

Sam's loving eyes attacked again, the barb wire in his heart stretched, and pulled, and cut, and twisted again. Sam nodded. "Don't worry, Cas." his voice sounded muffled and weak through the oxygen mask.

Dean walked to the medical supplies determined to find something to help his brother. Sam was going to sleep and then be all better, soon, very soon, he'll make sure of that. There was no reason for tears, there was no reason for fear, he just had to stick to the plan and everything was going to be ok.

When he walked back to Sam, his brother didn't fight him any more. He just looked at him, trying to express a lifetime of feelings with his eyes and Dean just begged to be smitten in the spot because he couldn't take it any longer.

"I wish Dad was here." Sam's words took him by surprised and he stopped the needle an inch from his brother's body.

He looked at Sam not knowing what to answer. His brother had loved his father, his brother had hated his father, but he seldom needed him when he was sick, usually it was Dean he wanted taking care of him. He settled for, "I miss him too."

"He would take care of you... or of me. He would find a way to control everything and you would have time to feel, to live, to run out of the room like you want to and punch something. A chance to scream and yell at how unfair all this is. You wouldn't have to be stuck here playing nurse maid and forced to bottle up everything you are feeling."

"You know I need to take care of you," he confessed.

Sam patted his hand. "I'm sorry."

"For what, Sammy?"

"For robbing you of your childhood. For putting so much pressure on you by thinking that you could solve any and all my problems, and force you to come up with solutions to them all the time. I forced you to grow up so fast, to always be strong for me, to define yourself through me. I didn't know. I didn't understand at the time. I was so little, you seemed so old. You were my big, awesome, can-do-it-all brother. I didn't know you were also a kid."

"Oh, god!" He faked outrage and disgust. He wasn't having this conversation. "Are you auditioning for days of our lives?"

"I wish I could have taken better care of you. I wish I didn't have to leave you alone. I am..." Sam's voice failed, his body went limp and those eyes that would tell his brother everything without a word, that could make Dean feel like the most important person in the universe, or like a freaking puppet unable to resist the plea in them, went lifeless and mute.

"Sam!" he screamed searching his brother's wrist for a pulse. "Sammy!" He found none and desperately moved to the carotid. "I can't find a pulse!"

Cas gently, but with inhuman strength moved him away from his brother. He didn't bother checking for signs of life and started healing. Dean behind him couldn't do anything but stare. He hated knowing that there was nothing he could do to help his brother. He dreaded relying on someone else to fix him but he also was painfully aware he was terribly flawed and there were a lot of things he couldn't do for his brother or for anyone.

Sam- Dean- Cas- Charlie- Sam- Dean- Cas- Charlie- Sam- Dean- Cas-Charlie- Sam- Dean- Cas-

"Cas, you can barely stand right now. Are you sure you'll have enough juice to go to him and bring him back?" Dean voice accompanied Sam to consciousness. His hand felt around before opening his eyes. He was still on his bed. The bulldozer inside his head was still desperately trying to break free, his chest and lungs still burnt like hell fire, but he didn't feel like he was knocking on heavens door any more.

"I'll be ok, Dean." Cas' voice sounded closer now, to his left. He allowed his tired eyes to open and stared at the ceiling for a second as the angel continued. "I won't require very much energy and I'll have regain some of my strength in a few minutes."

Sam turned his head to see his brother sitting on the far end of his bed, talking to Charlie and Cas that were seated around the table in his room. Cas took a sip of orange juice from the glass on his hand.

"Go to who?" He asked sitting up and against the headboard.

His brother was by his side in a second. "Feeling better?"

Sam started nodding but immediately decided against it. "Yeah."

"You must still feel very unwell, I am sorry my power wasn't strong enough to heal you any further." Cas broken hearted, weak voice opened a pit of guilt in Sam's guts.

"I am still alive because of you," he looked into the angel's eyes. "Don't worry, man, you did your best. Thank you!"

Charlie had poured some orange juice and was walking towards him.

"You are not giving me any more of that horrible, nauseating medicine, right?" he asked as he took the glass that was being offered to him.

Cas shook his head and sounded defeated. "It won't do any good anymore."

The noise of Dean swallowing turned the guilt pit into the grand canyon. They all knew what that meant, Sam's body was too destroyed for the medicine to help and there was no way Cas could heal him fast enough. He drank his juice, just to do something.

Dean sighed. "That's why we need to get Metatron, like by yesterday."

He put the empty glass on his night table and pinched the bridge of his nose. Damn, his head hurt. "How are we gonna do that?"

Charlie grabbed the empty glass and talked while she walked back to the table to refill it. "Cas says he can probably find some angel that would tell him where he is. Then he'll puff to him and bring him back here. After that, we have to trap him in holy oil and whip him until he cracks. Easy peasy." She gave him a sarcastic wink.

Sam smiled at her and leaned against the headrest. He was getting tired by virtue of just sitting there. He heard the ticking clock. _Ominous_, he thought and wondered if it was counting how much time he had left. "If you are going to zap him back here, how are we going to trap him in the holy oil without trapping you in there? Don't you have to touch him to bring him back?"

"I'll move out of the way as fast as I can?" Cas proposed but it was hard to believe that could be really fast considering he seemed to have trouble even lifting the half full glass on his hand.

Dean raised his eyebrows. "No offense, Cas, but a banana slug would be faster than you right now."

"Does any of you have a better idea?" He scanned the room, looking at each one of its occupants. "That's what I thought. We need answers as soon as possible. I am aware this is not the best possible course of action, but it is the only plan I can think of."

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Dean always thought it was ironic how after all the dragging, all the preparation, all the endless pain, it was always instants that changed someone's life. The second Sam threw himself to the pit, the quick moment it took his father's heart to stop beating, the swift pulling of the hellhounds that took him to hell, practically instantaneous. So much so, that movies normally saw the necessity to play them in slow motion, to add to the drama. He hated how it only took a momentary distraction or a sequence of strange misfortunes that aligned themselves like a domino structure before falling spectacularly to send everything to hell, quite literally in his family's case. It always happened so damn fast one had no way of doing anything about it.

He didn't even know how it happened. It took Cas a second more than expected to move out of the way, it took his lighter a second try to light on… but by the time they were all aware of what happened, Metatron was already gone and Sam knees were wobbling and giving away beneath him.

"Sam! SAMMY!" He ran to his brother placing a hand on each one of his shoulders to stop him from planting forward an impaling himself even further on the angel blade that decorated his mid section. "No falling forward!" He threatened and his brother weakly nodded but still allowed his head to loll and fall on Dean's shoulder. "Let me see." He pushed back with one hand while the other went to inspect his brother's guts.

Sam tried to hunch forward and against his brother's resistance, both his hands cradling his stomach. Even if he was weak, Dean's one hand pushing back was no match for gravity and Sam's gigantor body. "Damn it! Let me see!" He hissed and fought to pry Sam's hands open. If his brother had been at his best, there would have been no way he could have moved those hands, but still now, as weak as he was, he was fighting hard against his touch. '_Crap'_, he thought '_Of all the people to throw the knife at! Like Sam needed to add to his pain!' _He looked up for a second, he knew God had left the upstairs building, but he was still so pissed. '_Fuck you all!' _He was definitely killing Metatron the next time he saw him.

Sam gave a wry laugh. "Well, at least we have another angel blade to add to our collection, you can never have enough of those."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Always finding the silver lining, little brother! I can't see Jack like this, lets get you horizontal so I can take a better look, k?" He looked up from his brother. Cas was sitting on the floor, '_Fuck, fuck, fuck.'_ He was still on the same spot where he had thrown himself to get away from Metatron and give him the space to light the holy fire, which meant he was too weak to move. He knew otherwise he would be by his side, ready to help Sam when need it. He sighed and raised an eyebrow at Charlie who nodded and rushed to their side. "Ready?"

"No, Dean…" Sam begged hunching even forward and bringing both his hands closer to the wound protectively.

"Sammy!" He scolded and pushed back with might thinking that the fastest he lay him down, the easier it was going to be on his younger brother. Charlie behind them had to use all her strength to steady the fall but they somehow manage to smoothly -though, judging by Sam's grimace, not painlessly - maneuver him down.

"Sam, hands!" He commanded, though he was much softer than his tone when his hands pried his brother's away from the wound.

Sam didn't fight him, but his whole arms shook as he moved them to his side. "I hate you," he said while panting away the pain.

"I know." That was a good sign, if Sam was bitching he wasn't all that bad. "What are you, giving birth, princess?" he teased him and inspected through the blood and knife protruding in his brother's mid-section. The wound had not gone far down the flesh and, thank... whoever he could thank, had not been near any major organ. It was not a flesh wound, but it wasn't a mortal one either, any other time he would have sailed through it with a few stitches and a couple of days in bed, but this was not any other time.

"It's not even that bad!" He caught himself reassuring everybody and remembered another time when he had said those words, another blade stuck on his brother's back and it had been that bad, it had changed his life forever. '_Shut your pie-hole, Dean.' _He admonished himself. "Just a few stitches and rest and you'll be as good as new." He gave Sam a broad and, what he hoped appeared reassuring, smile and remove his outer shirt, giving it to Charlie. "Keep pressure on the wound." Charlie nodded and moved towards the youngest Winchester's mid-section. "I'll go get the suture kit. Careful with the knife, don't move it. I'll get it out when I get back."

Sam's cry when Charlie touched him was like a 9.9 earthquake in the room, everybody shook, but kept composed. He moved on top of his brother's face and placed his hand on the back of his neck. "Hang in there Sammy, I'll be right back, ok?"

Sam nodded with a sigh and closed his eyes.

Dean also closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath as he rushed towards his room. '_Sam is going to be ok, he is going to be ok,'_ he repeated that mantra over and over as he forced himself to move as fast as he could. '_He can't die, not out of a stupid knife wound that isn't even that bad!'_ He grabbed the kit and couldn't help to give himself a second. It was the neverending irony in his life that scared him, how fitting would it be that the first time Sam died was by a knife on his back and the last one would by a knife on his front? He punched the wall once, twice, three times until his knuckles bled. He pushed the tears back, he wasn't going to cry, not now, Sammy needed him. Practicing his game face in front of the mirror one time he ran back to his brother.

When he got back, Cas was seated besides his unconscious brother, his index and middle finger stuck into Sam's neck. The angel looked up at him and Dean saw something he never thought he would, tears filling Cas' eyes and bathing his face.

"No... NO, NO, Sam!" He forced his legs to go even faster and all but threw himself besides his brother's head. "Sammy!"

Sam's eyes slit open as soon as he touched him. "I am sorry, Dean. I wish...I didn't have to leave you alone. Please, try to find peace. You gave enough, brother. You sacrificed enough. Be happy, find that light at the end of the tunnel."

Dean felt a tear rolling down his face but he didn't care. "Please, please, don't leave..." He begged.

Sam nodded and let his eyes droop tiredly. "I'll stay, I'll tell the reaper to fuck off, that I am not going anywhere."

Dean shook his head and bit a sob. "And live as an angry poltergeist for the rest of eternity?"

Sam opened his eyes to look at him, again, those eyes… so much love. His brother's hand searched his and he gave into the contact. "I won't have anything to be angry about. I'll figure how to handle it." Sam wheezed and struggled for air but continued talking. "I won't leave you, but you have to try to find peace. And once your time comes, when you are old... really old... and chugging viagra as you so gracefully put it, you have to promise you'll go to heaven and stay there. Promise?"

Dean heard the unspoken words, don't stay as a ghost with me, don't doom yourself for me. He finally understood that was Sam had done when he thought Dean was in heaven, when he stopped looking for him. It hadn't been a selfish act, but a real sacrifice. He wanted Dean to be happy, even if that meant that Sam would be miserable without him. He remembered Sam had really wanted him to be happy and not look for him when he was trapped in cage. That he had looked for him when he thought he was in hell and he hadn't look for him when he thought he was in heaven. That all along, all his brother had ever wanted was for Dean to have a happy life, however or whatever that was. He, on the other hand, had never been able to survive without Sam, so he had dragged him out of heaven. And, Sam had left, for him, because he tricked him into trusting him. And Sam did, he trusted him. And now, he was again willing to sacrifice heaven for him.

"I can't let you do that Sam."

"I am sorry, D…" Sam's strength gave in and his eyes closed.

"SAM NOO! Cas, do something!"

**A/N: Please, if you have a second let me know what you think. There are probably only one or two more chapters left after this. **


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